“Very soon this website will be famous among all blogging viewers,
due to it’s good content.”
This was from cheaphardwaresoon.com. I’d say I admired their sincerity if I thought there was any.
Category Archives: Ramblings, ravings
More Funny Spam
I woke up today and saw this in my spam filter, along with 4 other spam comments on my blog.
chromebook 2012 If you are putting keywords throughout your article, then be certain that it has the proper sentence structure and grammar. If they may be working on your own manuscript, is he also gonna help you write your marketing copy, query letters, book proposal, etc. Radio shack acer aspire one meanwhile
Jason: Blake says horrible stuff that make me feel so angry and hurt. 4) Accept the possibility that you simply might be writing or have written the wrong book.
I like that last line especially.
I get spam
It’s a shame you don’t have a donate button! I’d certainly donate to this excellent blog!
I suppose for now i’ll settle for bookmarking and adding
your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to new updates and will talk about this blog with my Facebook group.
This was from someone with the unusual name Heavy Duty Cleaner Degreaser. Can you imagine the teasing they got at school? They must have had a horrible childhood. And even worse, as an adult their comments aren’t taken seriously.
Oh the humanity.
A culture of consumerism, or how we saved ourselves with advertising
A good friend of mine posted a great article on the effects of consumerism on our culture. I found it on FB, but thought it might be better brought over to my blog. You might read the post for yourself before digging into my response below.
I think this is a wonderful article, although I had a few quibbles. The author has the history a bit mixed up, but the end result is the same.
Consumer spending as a force in our economy (over 70% of the GDP, last time I looked) was not designed as much as it was an accident. Call it a feature instead of a bug, if you will. Like many things in our semi-capitalistic economy, it came about both by consumer forces, and a need to see a greater return on investment. Its the superhero of this story that is surprising.
Today the concept of advertising is deeply rooted in our culture, but it wasn’t always so. If you look at media (like newspapers or magazines) prior to WWII and indeed prior to WWI, you see very little of what we call advertising. Oh there are ads back then, but they are amazingly transparent to our modern eyes, and they are not nearly as frequent. Its also important to note that during the war years consumer spending was deeply curtailed. Many of the basic needs were rationed, like petrol and food stuffs.
The big shift came as a result of the post WWII depression. We had all these factories used to making all this stuff, only it wasn’t being consumed by the war department any more (war being the best consumer ever made). If you were invested in lots of factories (which a large percentage of the wealthy had done back then, after all it was patriotic and profit making) what were you to do? You wanted to get a good return on your investment, but how was that going to happen?
At the same time you had many people who had worked hard and saved during the war (or had worked hard in the war), and were looking for a way to reward themselves for their efforts.
Enter the savior to our economy. Of all things it ended up being Madison Ave. in NY, and by extension all of its ad men. Advertising became the hook to pull consumers into the market. First by radio, and then by glorious TV, we extend the idea of buying our way into a better economy one ad at a time. And as advertising became increasingly profitable more investment was put into the process of designing and creating ads. It was this investment, it was this interest in spurring our economy, that allowed advertising to finally grow, and become more sophisticated. Trying new tricks, new techniques, new mediums (like TV), and new relationships (like advertising and sports), averting grew until it started to become one of the most dominate cultural forces in our country.
As advertising grew in influence it also became more sophisticated. Ads used to be garish, and overly broad, using pitifully simple themes to get us to buy. But now ads have evolved to become more and more sophisticated as we’ve learned to tune out the simple ones. Today ads on the internet are often deeply targeted. If last week you did a search for a new rototiller, don’t be surprised if this week your favorite blog features ads for new rototillers. Advertisers have mixed the power of search engine queries with the power of flexible web-pages, a process that is intrinsically complex.
But here’s the tricky part. Just like you don’t have to buy anything sold in an ad, you don’t have to buy our ever present advertising culture either (or any other culture for that matter). Alas, the price for this is not fitting in, which is a difficult feeling to overcome. We’re wired to go along with the herd (which is one of the ways advertising works), so standing out goes against our biology. And don’t try pretending that advertising doesn’t work on you. Studies show that the people most likely to be effected by advertising are the ones who claim they are the lest likely.
If you’re looking for ways to shed the effect of adverting culture from your life, I’d recommend you look to the people who have been shunning popular culture for millennia: Artists. Check out your local painters, song-writers, poets, authors, actors, etc. All of these creative types have been thumbing their noses at the world for years. Practicing their own versions of anti-culture. Check them out. Get involved. Create. And learn to ditch the cultural norms which are holding you back.
The kind of notes I send to myself…
Cool idea 11/24/2013
A heads-up display on a motorcycle shows the driver a image of a motorcycle in front of him that he should follow. The image turns color to represent speed (more green for faster and more red for slower) flashes yellow if the driver needs to really pay attention or if they need to brake or accelerate hard. A radar plots a path through traffic so all the driver has to do is follow the image and they can drive much faster than normal.
Also a motorcycle is made of a very strong but very heavy material. Something much stronger than steel. The motorcycle weighs 8-10 tones. If a car pulls in front of it the motorcycle just pushes it aside.
To the Tooth
There’s an Italian term of art in cooking, al dente, which means food (usually pasta, but veggies and other things as well) that is slightly under-cooked so it is still firm. Directly translated it means “to the tooth”. There’s another meaning I take from al dente. It not only means “to the tooth,” but to me it also means “in the teeth”, like I just took a kick in the teeth.
Today I’m having an al dente day.
I’ve been recently working on a story in my spare time, and while I like the idea I realized a lot of what I wrote was bad. Well not bad, just boring. The irony is I took a big slug at the story the other day, throwing down well over 3000 words, so naturally I was excited about it. That was until the next day when I realized much of the work I had done was under cooked. Al dente.
When you’re a creative type being honest with yourself about your work is probably the most demanding part of the gig. You not only have to ignore the rest of the shit going on in your life, and somehow find the energy to get off your ass and do the work, but then when your work is done you have to turn right around and be critical enough about your work to ensure a high standard.
Essentially there are two standards at play here:
- Is the work done?
- Is it any good?
The first standard is easy, and can be roughly translated as “am I happy”. This is what the creative person aims for internally. This is the first goal in their work, making themselves happy. And it is quite satisfying when you do the work. I always love it when I get a stretch of time to really dig into a story. It is relaxing and exhilarating, much in the same way that a good workout at the gym is relaxing and exhilarating. You get the excitement of the “burn”, you get the very real sense of accomplishing something. Its that feeling you get when doing a project around the house, or working on a hobby or craft. That feeling you get when you complete a project and then turn around to admire your work.
But the second standard, the one that asks, “is it any good?” is the more important. This is this question that separates the amateurs from the pros, the question that elevates a piece of art beyond one’s own horizon to that of the world’s. Of the two, this standard is also, not surprisingly, the more difficult.
When one is a creative type then they will spend a huge amount of their time learning and polishing their craft. Perfecting their ability to do their work, because, after all, doing the work is what its all about. Because of this it is easy and natural to learn from others, to study the great masters, to attempt to learn all that is possible within the craft. Painters learn to paint, writers learn to write, singers learn to sing, etc. But where does one go to learn how to be critical? How does a newbie learn to break down the flaws in their work and make it better? Where does the neophyte artist/writer/singer/etc. learn to develop an expert critical eye or ear?
These are the tough questions, the ones not easy to answer. To be creative means to ignore the other clamoring voices in the world, to lock yourself up in your own head, and to produce the work that only comes after years and years of practice. But to be a professional in your craft means your have to then turn around and listen to those very same voices you just ignored, and also, at the same time, hold your work up to them for comparison. This is a brutal thing to learn, and it is every bit as demanding as mastering the work itself. Only the rewards are not nearly as satisfying. It does not feel good to criticize one’s work. In fact, it feels like shit. Yet, it must be done.
So yeah, my story is both under-cooked, and being honest about it to myself feels like a kick in the teeth. Thus, al dente. What’s a guy to do?
Anyway, it looks like its time to do a bit more cooking. Which means its time to turn up the heat.
Anybody else suffer from learning the right amount of criticalness? What’s your story?
Another Saturday Morning
When we woke up the morning, Teri and I sat in the living room and leisurely sipped our coffees while watching the day slowly come alive. A little mini vacation, as it were, after a very hectic week. Trevor had a friend stay over, so he was happily out of our hair.
While we sat I told her the story of Rob Tepper meeting President Clinton (if you know Rob, you need to get the story from him. I’m sure my retelling doesn’t do the story justice. Its one of those stories that is probably better over a beer). This in turn reminded Teri of the dream she had last night that included a recycling festival on our block (complete with kids throwing candy on the front lawns), and President Obama sticking his head in our kitchen window, and talking with us while I made him pancakes. Because of time constraints, The Leader of the Free World had to suffer through my Bisquick pancakes, and not Teri’s Whole Wheat Buttermilk Pancakes, which irked Teri to no end. He seemed to suffer no ill effects, she reports.
This is quite possibly the best part of being married. Leisurely mornings where you sit with your spouse and catch up on the events that you missed over the previous week. A lovely moment of calm before the storm of breakfast, and dishes, and shopping, and a day full of stuff you need to do NOW because you don’t have the time to get to it over the week.
So how was your morning? Any good dreams you’d like to share?
Driving back
I just spent a long weekend in Yosemite with family. Mostly it was lovely, but it was also work as my parents were wrapping up the sale of their B&B. We hauled away heavy stuff, went through boxes of papers and camping gear, and looked over a lot of old photos.
My mother made a habit of keeping things we sent her, especially in our youth. Over the weekend she was kind enough to hand them back now that we’re adults. These were not always the happy things one normally associates with their parent’s keeping. For instance, mixed in with the first paid magazine article I wrote (and immediately sent to her) was a note from way back when I was a born-again that is filled to the brim with Christianese. This is a part of my past I am not always fully comfortable with, but curiously she kept a memento from then any way.
But I bring this up because I think this is a great idea. Most parents keep mementos of their children. But even better, I think its a good idea to keep them, and then hand them back to your children when they are old enough to have children of their own. Certainly it better to receive these things from your parents hand, rather than after a funeral. That way you both have time to reflect over them, the good and the bad.
One the way home I took this shot while driving south on Highway 41 near Fresno. You can see the hammerheads forming over the Sierras, which means its warm and moist in the valley. The clouds look small in the photo but each one of them is the size of a large town. These kinds of clouds are common in the Sumer, but not nearly so much in the early Spring. Also we saw yellow daffodils in bloom at my parent’s place, which is some 6200 feet in elevation. This time of year the Sierra’s are usually still packed with snow. This year I didn’t see any snow, not even in the shady parts of the road. And flowers this early, especially that high up, are very rare.
I don’t know what all of this means, except it was a lovely way to say goodbye.
My Book of Ideas
Way back in 2003 I bought a little note book. On the cover I scribbled “Eric’s Book of Ideas.” It wasn’t my first notebook. I’ve had several, most of which are stuffed filled of poems, songs, sketches, and whatnot. In a way, these notebooks work like crumbs to mark the trail of my emotional journey as I slowly worked out how to be a man and deal with the outsized set of emotions with which I was born. To say a lot of the writing is tedious and overwrought would be fair. They are. It is. Perhaps you had a better way getting to where you are, but I didn’t. In some ways I still don’t.
But that being said, I hardly write poetry any more. I haven’t really since I met Teri. Its as if poetry was some strange language I spoke only when I was single, and when I settled down I somehow lost the ability. I find this idea fascinating, and wonder if you, dear reader, have also had a similar transformation. Have you? I can assure you, mine was not intended, it just happened. Moreover, I am all the better for it. At least the marriage part. The poetry, I’m not so sure. Even now, when I look back over it, I find my poems tedious and overwrought. I can’t imagine you would experience them differently.
In any event, I mention this because I pulled out this particular notebook the other night, and read through it, cover to cover. Over the course of its use (I’ve since switched to using my iPhone, and thus do not write in notebooks anymore) I went through a lot of changes. Trevor grew up. I grew into appreciating fatherhood. (believe me, I wasn’t so sure at first, even though it was my own idea) I took a screenwriting course at the local college, and I switched back to writing fiction. All of these transformations are marked in these pages. Not by the words directly, you’d have to know the transformations were there to see them, but echoes of these changes are clearly imprinted in the words.
As a diary of sorts, it makes for fun reading. Its good, I think, to be occasionally reminded from whence you came. But as a journal it is extremely lacking. There’s no direct connection to any part of the real world. With the exception of a single note, which remarks that Trevor turned 20 months old on that particular day, there is almost no connection to my day-to-day life. Its as if a drunk monk went over your life, randomly picking things important only to him, and somehow used this as the basis of your biography.
So I suck at my own history. Sue me.
But I did find, on this recent excavation, a few ideas worth mentioning here. One was a story idea called “I Know Americans” which I jotted down in 2003. To my knowledge, this is the only story I’ve thought of that takes place in an advertising agency. Considering I’ve spent the better part of 24 years in one ad agency or another, I find the absence funny. This story I have already started, and hope to finish soon. No promises yet on when it will come out because I think it’ll be good enough to send out for publishing. You can be sure, though, that I’ll post here on its progress. Its a fun one, and I think my peeps who have had been stuck sweating with me in the advertising mines will appreciate its scope and ideas.
The other thing from my notebook I find worthy of your attention is a poem. This one is a rare poem I wrote it in 2013, well into my marriage. It is also less about my own emotional mess (or my fears of being single forever, and ever, and ever, and ever) and more about helping others. I guess marriage has been good for me. I’ll post it tomorrow. Look for it then.
In the mean time, if you have something to share from your notebooks, or whatever method you use to measure your progress, feel free to share it here or on Facebook. I love to see how other people work out their shit. If for no other reason than to feel like I’m not the only one.
From on old poem
I want to cry at weddings and funerals.
I want to laugh at the sky,
and call down the stars.
Speak to the moon as a friend,
and the stars as close family.I want to reach, grasp, and obtain,
my life.
With my own two hands.
From Late Night Coffee (Manipulate III)
-ERK 8/3/95