Nostalgia

I’m as sentimental as the next guy, I suppose. Maybe more so. But lately I’ve been hit with so much sappy, nostalgic bullshit that I can’t take it anymore.

Isn’t it sad that there aren’t any record stores around like when we were kids? No, it isn’t. It’s nice, I guess, that thirty years ago we had a place to buy bongs and score an import album. I get that. I was there, man. But come on. The entire universe of recorded music divided into four or five store sections and represented by 10,000 pieces of vinyl? The selection was too small to be authoritative and yet too large to navigate in that computerless age. Plus, you couldn’t listen to it before you bought it.

Today I can access a much larger catalog, navigate it much more easily, discover things I’ve never heard of, give them a listen, buy them and begin enjoying them immediately. All while waiting for a bus.

Go back to the way things were? Not in a zillion years, pal.

Should we even talk about book stores? I guess we have to, since everyone’s getting all misty about the closing of so many Border’s stores. I have always liked–and still like–browsing bookshelves with a latte in hand. And when I was a kid my local strip mall book store was a haven for me. Give nine-year-old-me a $10 bill and that’s where you’d find me, agonizing deliciously over the sci-fi or fantasy shelves, trying to determine which title might be the most transportive. But when I look back on it, the experience could have been better. It’s the same story: a small inventory and not much to help me decide. Amazon to the rescue.

Of course I did see the sign in the closing Border’s store: “no, you can’t come in and use the bathroom, try Amazon.” Har! But I really want to write something below that witty observation: “perhaps you should have sold toilets instead!”

Here’s an idea, though. Maybe brick-and-mortar stores should start doing more value-added stuff. Camera stores could give photography lessons. Book stores could have read-aloud nights. Record shops could have “be the DJ” events where people could sign up for two or three songs of their choosing to share with others. They could even get local cafes, restaurants or bars to cater the events. These would be experiences you can’t quite get online–and they might actually build communities of people who saw them as relevant again.

Until then, I’ll be online without much regret over the old way of doing things.

Fake Steve on kindle, “iTablet”

I hope it’s all right with fake Steve that I quote him this extensively, but I know that some of you aren’t going to click through to read his blog in person, even though you should. Dig this:

There is no point in moving to digital readers if we’re just going to do what we did on paper. That’s why Kindle is such a piece of shit. All they did was pave the cowpath. And that’s why we’ve held back on our Tablet — not because the technology wasn’t ready, but because the content guys are such fucktards that they still can’t create anything that makes it worth putting the Tablet into the world.

It’s stunning how few of the big guys in publishing actually understand this. We’ve invited them in for meetings, and while we’re talking we sort of give them a little quiz, in the form of a very simple question: Where do you think publishing is going? Most of them can’t see anything other than what they’ve done in the past. To them this is all just another blip, a little shift in their business, like going from black-and-white newspapers to color, or going from broadsheet to tabloid.

But that’s not it at all. We’re talking about an entirely new way to convey information, one that incorporates dynamic elements (audio, video) with static elements (text, photos) plus the ability for the “audience” to become content creators, not just content consumers.

The funny thing is that the publishing guys still consider themselves the “creative” side of the business, even though they’re the ones with no vision. In their minds, we techies are just a pack of drones. And they wonder why, in this new digital age, we’re reaping most of the financial rewards.

My guess is that the truly revolutionary content is not going to come from the old-guard publishers. It’s going to come from new guys, kids who have grown up digital. This notion of mashing together elements comes naturally to them. And somewhere out there, a genius is waiting to be discovered — the Orson Welles of digital media, someone who will create an entirely new language for storytelling. If you’re reading this, Orson Jr., please get in touch. I’ve got something I want to show you. Okay? Peace.

Nostalgic, uninformed hogwash

Every communication advancement throughout human history, from the pencil to the typewriter to writing itself, has been met with fear, skepticism and a longing for the medium that’s been displaced.

That’s part of the lead-in to an interview with professor of English and linguistics at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Denis Baron. His latest book, A Better Pencil, purports to be a clearer-headed view of emerging technology than what we usually get when tuning into the traditional media.

Sounds like it’s right up my alley.

Musings on the internet as a mirror

Take a good look in the mirror. This is you and your neighbors. Welcome to the internet.

I take some wry satisfaction in the fact that people often decry the proliferation of scams, lies and sex on the internet. We’re horrified! Scandalized! And sometimes we even delve into “it has to be stopped!”

You know what, though? This is us. This is what we care about. You, me, our friends and neighbors. This is who we are. Due to it’s uncensored and participatory nature, the internet is the largest and most accurate reflection of what we collectively are “into.” Much more so than television, radio or even popular print. Those mediums have gatekeepers: Small groups of media professionals who determine what is and isn’t fit for public consumption.

You think the internet should be all PBS and museum displays? Then go to those sites. They exist. But you know what? The reason they aren’t as popular as spam email and porn sites is because nobody else much gives a shit.

Don’t bash the internet as a medium. If you have complaints, look to your neighbors–and to yourself. I think it’s time we look squarely in the mirror and assess what we see. The internet is only a reflection. If you think people’s interests are ugly then perhaps we need to change ourselves, not the medium which reflects it so accurately that it makes us wince.

But maybe the first step is to take that honest look at ourselves and attempt to understand human nature. What is our cultural and genetic heritage? Are we evil by nature? Or is it that we judge ourselves to puritanically? We have to know what we are dealing with before we set about bettering ourselves. The internet provides a hitherto unknown glimpse into What We Are. Let’s not censor the bejebers out of it before we have an opportunity to learn something.

Thirteen

It’s not technically a blogiversary, but holy smokes. I’ve been on the web for thirteen years.

My blog will only be seven (!) years old in January, but I’ve had a web presence long before that. Back in December of 1995 there was no such thing as a blog. I hand-coded a static web page (and yeah, I mean one page) using my Macintosh Performa 630 and a two-part article in Mac User about HTML.

Other than the fact that the background of the page was canary yellow, I have no recollection of what was on it. Probably some quick biographical information about myself, and a few of my likes/dislikes. (Hey, I know unordered lists!)

My site went through several phases in the following years. There was the X-Files fan period. There was the I-know-Photoshop period. Then, seven years ago, I started using blog software.

What’s your web history?

Filtered or unfiltered?

Do you let your search engine of choice filter your search results? I don’t. I use Google and I go out of my way in the Preferences area to turn off the default “moderate safe search.” Why? It’s not that the occasional surprise explicit text or image is the highlight of my day. It’s more because the idea of it rankles me.

In a sense, the internet itself is an enormous document representing everything that we* collectively care about, sans the many filters found in older, professionally-produced media outlets. For this reason and others, it represents an important sea change in publishing and communications history. Never before could we see what the total universe of human interest was. We are sometimes shocked at the prurient or hateful things that thrive there, even as we shout hallelujah that our own skinny-tail pet interests are finally being represented.

Me, I think what I get out of it is mostly meta. It’s not so much that I’m participating in media about some rare and traditionally underrepresented pursuit. It’s more that I feel I’m learning something important culturally with my typing fingers always on the pulse of the global internet culture’s constantly changing beat. It’s intoxicating. And invoking old media rules about what can and cannot be viewed would be an obstruction to this knowledge.

So, click. Moderate safe search off.

(* When I say “we” I don’t mean the entire human population. I mean everyone with access to the internet.)

Like a swimmer’s convention with no pool

So I’m in Memphis at a technology conference. There are many positive things I could write about the ideas being presented, and the intensity of being around so many of my colleagues. But I rarely blog about work, so for now at least I’ll refrain. I will say one thing though: why is internet connectivity–even at technology conferences–such a struggle?

Let’s start with the hotel. Is there WiFi in the rooms? Nope. Not in the lobby or “business lounge” areas, either. Not for any price. There is, however, a network jack in my room which I may use for $12 per day. And what choice do I have? I’m in technology, I have to have it. Adding insult to injury, the network cable provided is approximately 4 inches long.

During the day, I’m across the street in the convention center. WiFi was to be provided for all attendees. Upon registration at the conference we got sheets of paper explaining how to recognize the access points and what names and passwords we would need to log into them. Problem is, the WiFi network was overwhelmed by 7 am on the first day and has only worked sporadically ever since.

Why is this such a continual problem? Can 500 people not show up at a large hotel and conference center and expect internet connectivity? A king’s ransom awaits the clever individuals who develop a service whereby they roll up in a truck and provide working WiFi to any place where large numbers of nerds gather.