Summer Blog Reflections

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Hello Reader,

May I reflect?

You probably know the drill: Another 25 weeks, another 25 posts, meaning: Once again I give myself permission to indulge in blog reflection. My last reflection was in February, My Blog and War of the Worlds. At the time I noted that, since Christmas, every second post had been, along with an essay, a chance to paste in a couple poems about that novel of HG Wells. This pattern has continued.

Back then I noted that posting Mars invasion poems was to use up “page-space” to give me “time-space” to write fiction. Now I can tell you: Fiction is still hard for me. Poetry used to be hard: Back when I started on my Mars poetry manuscript I had to drive out to Strathmore to “get away from it all” in order to find the courage to write. Not any more! So I’m sure I will get courageous for doing fiction soon. But let me say this: I will always be sympathetic, not arrogant or judgmental, to anyone who claims “writer’s block.” At most I will show them “tough love.” But first I will have to show such love to myself.

As for my essay blog: 

Historically, besides being a chance to spout off my observations about the world, it was also a chance to practise getting better at writing. I remember once, years ago, a lady in Public Relations liked my essay, saying she could spot “how you made your piece sing.” Yes, for that piece I had counted syllables and balanced clauses. Not now. What concerns me lately is what someone, either a writer (Gordon R. Dickson) or a Zen master had said: If you are practising, say, “the way, or “do,” (karate-do) of knife throwing,” for a circus say, and if you start throwing badly on purpose for the sake of entertainment, then your throwing will not improve and when you try to return to “the way” you will have lost your way.

As for me, “badly on purpose” 

would be writing for computer screens. The quality stuff by big name essayists, that makes it onto good non-glossy paper, is never written for the screen. Paper is a separate medium, a medium that rewards big paragraphs of balanced clauses, because paragraphs of decent size will look decent on paper, to be read by decent people with their decent attention spans. Not by folks who click and skim and savour their backspace button. I have disparaged such skimmers before, most notably in one of my top ten (by hit count) essays, No Links is Good Links, archived July 2012.

Feeling annoyed, I wonder how many self-infantilized skimmers are like addicts who say “I could read something dense (quit using) if ever I wanted to.” And I wonder if my generation was conditioned to only have a short focus time, a time equal to the minutes between television commercials. As for the still younger generation: A rich globe-trotting successful blogger, Mark Manson, recently (July 2019) lamented that he couldn’t compose a piece without “self interrupting” to check his electronic devices. My nearest equivalent, when I was a mature student his age, was to study in the student bar, not in a blank white study carol, where I would lift my head periodically to gaze upon the neon lights.

Now I’m reflecting that I really need to make a Major Change, somehow, but I don’t know How, or What… The Why would be to switch my interest to writing fiction…. if that’s even possible for me. I don’t know yet… Most of my library is nonfiction… (Note: Respect for my readers means I won’t change to putting dense paper-sized paragraphs on their pixel screen)

On a lighter note,

Robert Heinlein wrote a 1940’s book (I won’t loan my precious copy) of practical advice on getting involved in politics. He began, right on page one, with a two or-three paragraph story of wisdom from a famous African-American. Not just to begin passing on advice, but to filter out any racists who wouldn’t read any further. No need to encourage civic-minded racists. 

Last week I happily followed Heinlein’s example. Because my post was so personal, I thought: No need to encourage reading by cold strangers who wouldn’t know I like to write concisely… so I wrote non-concisely for two paragraphs, with one paragraph being especially big and dense, to filter out zombie-eyed strangers, sending them hurrying off to their little backspace buttons. I suppose my regular readers were amused.

On a blog note,

I still refuse to inconvenience my fans by having, for my portal, a “home page.” As it happens, by the current technology of blog stats features, portal hits can’t be counted: Therefore I still can’t collect statistics (hits) on how many people are landing on my latest essay of the week—although I could if only I hid them behind a portal. As for stats of the last 25 weeks, some pages did better, some poorer … I can’t say whether it all means anything. It could all just be coincidence, and from folks landing based on page title, not substance. 

Also, a certain old joy has been obliterated due to a very frequent spam deluge, blasting my stats monitor. Gone is the joy of seeing my “evergreen” posts still being read, although you would otherwise would think their posting dates are too old to attract search engines. Having those evergreens covered up now is so demotivating.

Shall I start posting re-runs? If so, then my selections would not be by (hit) popularity, but by whether a piece sparked any comments. That would be the most objective criteria for re-runs, I think, while I look for ways to free up time for writing fiction. Why yes, of course spam counts as a comment!

On a topical note,

If you have an idea for an essay-topic, or if you want me to re-think an old topic, then let me know soon, as I may be transitioning away from essays towards re-runs, poems, Free Fall, or very-short “just-the-facts” pieces. Anything to free up fiction time.

On a personal note, 

The British pound has finally sunk enough for me to start snapping up pounds sterling. Hurray! I have already walked everywhere The War of the Worlds takes place, and walked in the footsteps of Jack the Ripper and Doctor Who, but I would love to go again to the misty British Isles.

I won’t blab about “my so-called life” just now, as I have a “do first, then boast” philosophy. If you want to know more, well, I’ll be self-indulgent again in 25 weeks.

Sean Crawford

August

Calgary

2019

On a foot note: 

My last 25-poster was February 2019, My Blog and War of the Worlds.

Comments note:

A lot of my proudest writing has commenting on other people’s blogs, although I never save my work. While I don’t have anything to contribute about, say, computers or economics, this week I was able to comment several times on a thread by John Scalzi regarding writer Robert Heinlein, and several times on Penelope Trunk’s thread regarding how society is bloody useless for domestic violence. No “me too” movement there.

So I’m pleased that my life has meant accumulating a little knowledge and a little bravery for public writing. Not like if I spent all my years in my mother’s basement watching a dim screen while outside the sunny river flows by without me.

Cicero, Conversations and Computers

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On Cicero and Conversations

Of course you know of Cicero, the idealistic lawyer who lived at the time of noble Caesar—they knew each other. People learning Latin always read Cicero. Born into a virtuous republic, Cicero lived to see Rome enter into decadence. For his troubles in trying to keep Rome from declining, Cicero was exiled. I enjoyed the Reader’s Digest condensed version of the best seller about him by Taylor Caldwell, A Pillar of Iron.

Here is Cicero on conversation:

QUOTE: Conversation then, in which these Socratics are the best models, should have these qualities. It should be easy and not in the least dogmatic; it should have the spice of wit. And the one who engages in conversation should not debar others from participation in it, as if he were entering upon a private monopoly; but, as in other things, so in a general conversation he should think it not unfair for each to have his turn.

He should observe, first and foremost, what the subject of conversation is. If it is grave, he should treat with seriousness; if humorous, with wit. And above all, he should be on the watch that his conversation shall not betray some defect in his character. This is most likely to occur, when people in jest or in earnest take delight in making malicious and slanderous statements about the absent, on purpose to injure their reputations.

The subjects of conversation are usually affairs of the home or politics or the practice of the professions and learning. Accordingly, if the talk begins to drift off to other channels, pains should be taken to bring it back again to the matter in hand—but with due consideration to the company present for we are not all interested in the same things at all times or in the same degree. We must observe, too, how far the conversation is agreeable and, as it had a reason for its beginning, so there should be a point at which to close it tactfully. UNQUOTE

I found Cicero’s quotation in A Good Talk subtitled The story and skill of conversation by Daniel Menaker. It’s good. As Mary Roach, author of Stiff blurbed on the back cover: “… I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to resist an author who compares Socrates to Columbo.”

After quoting Cicero as early as page 36, Menaker writes, “Okay, that’s it! Book’s done—at least it terms of saying what the most general rules of conversation may be. At least (for) formal conversation, (that is,) because Cicero’s admonition not to reveal one’s own defects is pretty guarded and ultimately unfollowable anyway.”

(Blogger’s Note: I added the “for” and “that is,” in order to make Menaker’s sentence easier to follow. Also, I broke Cicero into an extra paragraph in order to look better on computer screens.)

“OK, that’s it” for this week’s essay. Cicero has said it all for me.

But wait, I’ve more:

On Computers

I don’t know if today’s computers and handheld devices have meant more couches and less conversation, but they have surely meant less reading.

A cousin in a mid-sized British Columbia town shared the gossip: About an army cadet, a secondary school graduate, failing to be accepted into the Canadian Armed Forces… merely because he failed to show adequate vocabulary: In Forces terms, he had failed to obtain the required “threshold knowledge.”

He had graduated just fine; his health and fitness were fine—had he been below the fitness threshold, the forces would have sent him to “fat camp”; he had graduated high school just fine, but still he failed— probably because of all these screens and devices. While society, at least in my age group, thinks technology is being used by the smart kids, that ain’t so: Because down the years, by choosing screens, and choosing not-reading, the boy had failed to pick up enough vocabulary. And words are machetes for coping with the underbrush of life.

Granted, he was in a rural area, which, according to popular culture, means lower schooling, and granted his school was proud of their graduation rates for students of indigenous heritage, which, according to my cousin, means lower standards, but still—I blame technology. In fairness, I’m sure his fellow graduates had learned enough to get local jobs in primary industry or retail, but still—what if that young man wants to move to a big city of office towers? Or to an exotic coastal navy base?

Reading is not natural. As writer John D. MacDonald (Of the Travis McGee mystery series) testified to congress, reading is an abstract skill of decoding marks on a page. Reading is not easy. As a friend found when she taught adult education, her students would lose much of their reading ability over the summer. Reading is not monitored, not by society’s teachers: My niece was more than halfway through third grade before my sister realized her daughter was still illiterate. Three years! Her poor girl had to repeat grade three in a school that used phonetics, “hooked on phonics works for me,” not goddam “whole word.”

The problem for the non-readers is that there are so many things, such as skills for good conversation, or the ideals of Cicero, which everyday people just don’t speak of in daily life. You won’t learn by listening, you have to read…. And you truly won’t learn from the talk of fellow teenagers.

Imagine a young man moving to the big city, meeting me at an outdoor bar patio, and hoping to add me to his network of contacts. Maybe he’s hoping to start in a big corporation’s mailroom, and work his way up to executive. We converse. Imagine me learning he doesn’t know who Cicero was. I would glance at an office tower, look back to the young guy, and say, “Have you considered a career as a retail clerk?”

Sean Crawford

May,

Calgary

2016

Footnotes:

~As a former journalist I am well aware that most people don’t know most things. Hence newspapers explain things people “already know” (such as the on-going Fort Mac fire) just as if a reader has been isolated in a Russian prison. In other words, if you don’t know “Cicero,” relax. And watch less TV.

~The Economist has put a lengthy enthusiastic article about conversation on-line, here’s the link.

By “lengthy,” I mean it was written for real-world reading, not for viewing with a cyber-world attention span. I believe it’s OK to view only parts for now, and maybe get back to viewing it later.

Done and Learned

www.essaysbysean.blogspot.com

Well, with some effort, I’ve made it to 100 essays. Such a lengthy labor of love couldn’t be sustained with any cold, calculating cynicism. On the contrary, writing essays “under a democratic sky” requires the temperament of a White House speechwriter: a sunny optimistic faith in people and ideas. In this I have much in common with other Internet writers. Even to keep a humble web log (blog) about one’s life requires a ray of optimism about the world. Having done 100 essays, I’ve learned some things about the web.

So many blogs don’t make it this far, blogs that start out with such high hopes and dreams. I suppose we all want to think our lives matter, that we have something to offer. (We do) We all want some attention; we don’t want to be alone. As western writer Louis L’amour pointed out, (in my own words) ‘When I am on a horse on a lonely trail and I see a double rainbow by a waterfall I want to say, “Hey look at that!”’ … Of course, my “blog” is an essay site, so although I too have hopes and dreams, my postings are not nearly as personal as a blogger’s would be. No reader knows if I even have a horse. (I don’t)

What have I done and learned, here on this brave new cyber frontier?

The prevailing wisdom is that a good blog will have a very clear, very narrow theme. Maybe I’m unwise. For my series of essays I have been applying what I had learned from doing creative movement, public speaking and rhythmic gymnastics: the principle of variety. I know the stage should be used in all areas, at high, medium and floor level, and used with a variety of speed and pace. This is what judges look for, and this is why, for my essays, I used a variety of lengths and topics, all related to citizenship. And besides, otherwise I would have been just too bored!

Another reason for variety is a tip from a small businessman, Barry, of Barry’s Books. It was at CON-Version, the local science fiction and fantasy convention, during a panel on small business, that Barry told us about inventory: “Only stock your shelves half full when you open your new store” he said. It may not seem economical to have shelves half empty, but it sure beats needing to have a sale to get rid of inventory that just doesn’t move, that drags you down. Start by stocking only half your shelves, and then customer feedback, from what they buy, will show you what to stock.

Like Barry, I once dreamed of learning what golden nuggets my readers wanted. This dream never panned out. For customer feedback I’ve always relied on comments, right up until a few months ago when Google’s e-blogger finally added, or I finally noticed, a statistics feature. (I never wanted to download a visible hit counter: too undignified) Unfortunately, the comments I’ve received have not been statistically relevant, while the stats feature is equally inconclusive as to what people like. Happily, I’ve always known my essay blog, despite attracting very few comments, was at least being read because once a month, when I checked the “see my complete profile” page, I would find that several people had clicked to go there.

Of course, if most folks don’t go to the essay section at the bookstore, then they won’t go to my essay site on the web, either. And that’s OK. Yet… surely I’m not the only reader out there, am I? My own pattern is clear: If I find a site by an author I like I then I start reading lots of her entries, or essays, in order. I may also mix up my reading by constantly returning to her home page and checking the table of contents/archives/index. Naturally, I have my dreams of attracting readers who share my reading pattern … but I really shouldn’t: Now that I have a stats feature I can say with some assurance that… none of my readers are like me. 

Instead, my poor home page gets lonely, while individual pages get all the hits. (On the other hand, some e-blogger users say the stats feature is broken, and doesn’t show home page hits) I don’t think people ever click on the “see older post” button. The nice thing about being a confident middle-aged man is I can smile and say, “Hmm. This reader didn’t click on “newer post,” eh? Well, that’s his loss.”

I was so glad to see that my old Vietnam book review, for my university student newspaper, was getting lots of hits, presumably from other male baby boomers, still trying to understand what happened to us. Then one day I clued in: My review was probably being found by innocent school kids doing research. Sigh! But that’s OK.

My “statistics thingy” includes a listing of search terms used. Such an amusing list. This week I got three hits for a 1960’s jingle, one that I had buried midway through my Brass Cannon essay, “you can eat them on the run, eat them just for fun.” Why? Were new interns at Kellogs being given make-work?

I was much more pleased this week when someone found that jingle essay by combining the search terms “Heinlein” and “Brass Cannon.” This was sweet because so few would think to do so. (You can see Heinlein’s cannon, lovingly restored, being fired on Youtube) I was also pleased months ago when some idealistic intellectual found that same essay after we both liked the same paragraph-length quotation: his search term had been the start of the quote, as referenced by Clive James, in Cultural Amnesia.

This week someone in Ireland combined terms to search “Battlestar Galactica" and "post 9/11.” This was sweet because originally a troll had rudely disagreed with my essay, being sure BSG had nothing whatsoever to do with those terrible days. (What? Did he, for example, think the Galactica’s photo board, for missing and dead loved ones, was purely coincidental?) Also this week someone tried the term “panhandling essays”: I wonder if the searcher was disappointed that I was looking at the big picture and being anti-beggar. Other searches this week were for “who are surfers essay” and “why surfers surf essay”: I wonder if those searchers wanted an essay on heroes confronting the waves, not my piece on pathetic web surfers.

It was the web surfers, or “clickers,” that dimmed my enthusiasm for putting links in my pieces. Rather than repeat that emotional lesson of my previous essay, I will use a logical lesson from the book A Taste For Honey.

According to my childhood memory… This book was a 1940’s horror-mystery, recommended by Boris Karloff, where a beekeeper uses swarms of bees to get away with murder. The amateur detective was probably meant to be Mycroft Holmes; the viewpoint character was an ordinary guy who liked fresh honey. One day, walking along a quiet country road, this man sees a new sign that is just too far up the embankment to read. He climbs up and finds an advertisement for honey. As it happens, his usual beekeeper has just been accidentally stung to death (murdered, but he doesn’t know that yet) so he goes to the address on the sign. There he finds Holmes.

As it turns out, Holmes had planted that sign as a screening device. He needed a local partner, who had to be someone curious, someone observant enough to notice a sign was new, and someone adventurous enough to climb up to read it. And, of course, it had to be someone who could convincingly go to the suspect’s bee farm to buy honey.

So I’ve decided to be like Holmes. Rather than make a link, even a link to my own lonely essays, rather than risk casting pearls before swine, I would rather leave those pages for anyone who is active and curious enough to adventurously type up a search term to see what she will find. Or at least take the initiative to go to my home page. Those who are upset at this, those who want all their links handed to them on a silver platter, are probably not intent seekers of knowledge but merely clickers: incurious, frivolous clickers. I feel no guilt at filtering them out, as Holmes would, by denying them their all-too-easy links.

…After 100 posts, what’s next? For now, mostly some re-runs. Since I am canceling my old web site (it has a yearly fee) I need to move some old essays from that site over to my blog. The time I save by not “having” to compose new stuff I can put towards creating my new curriculum. As you may recall from my last essay, I am creating from scratch a leadership course for five staff at work, a course that will be requiring a lot of my attention.

For now, as Holmes would say, “Cheerio!”

Sean Crawford

In her majesty’s dominion of Canada

March 2011

Surfing Essays

www.essaysbysean.blogspot.com
Headnote: I posted a brief essay on Surfing At Work in January of 2011

Vocabulary for today: 

left brain and right brain:… Here is a simple definition; here is one by motivated people.   Gestalt: means the whole thing, as in "the whole is different from the sum of its parts." 

Here’s a milestone: my 100^th post. (Or 99th) Discerning readers will know that for every 25 essays I like to do a post on the topic of “essays.” These days I have less interest in “essays” in isolation, and a keen interest in “essays on the web.”

So many computer users are what I would call "surfers:" people who click an awful lot ("clickers?") while at their computer. Even if they found a web page for World Peace they would keep their mouse hovering on the “backspace” button rather than give peace a chance. So what’s up with these surfers? And what is the effect of this ceaselessly pounding surf on the shores of society?

Since posting my 75^th essay, on Essays and Blogs, I’ve been slowly adjusting to the reality of surfers and writers who don’t enjoy reading. I have been going from denial to anger to acceptance. The adjustment has been a lonely one: In this brave new cyber-world there has been, as yet, very little critical philosophy. Maybe I can add my own little philosophical voice.

Surfing at Work

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You know what disturbs me? People “wimping out” at work by “surfing.”

If you surf on your employer’s dime, then aren’t you tempted to rush? And if you rush, aren’t you tempted to switch gears to be solely left-brain? Then aren’t you left with a black and white nonfiction view of the world? I’ve yet to see a tweet to say, “I’ve just found a cool short story on the web!”

You know who doesn’t rush? Real surfers riding the pacific rollers, balanced, their left and right brains integrated… deeply committed to the experience of being here now. They live in gorgeous Technicolor. Not like those who pretend to be “surfing,” unable to commit, skimming through their one precious life.

Ironically, some of those who don’t want to be transparent about their surfing at work will agree with making government mail transparent. I thought of such people this winter when the newspaper reported some people favouring wiki-leaks. Meanwhile, I suppose few of us with journalistic ethics will look favorably on the “ethically challenged” practice of secretly surfing the web.

Roger Ebert has been a newspaperman in Chicago since the 1960’s, back when the sexual revolution was gathering momentum. Down the years he’s seen his fellow Chicagoan Hugh Hefner do lots of good work as a citizen: This was above and beyond Hefner’s work as a Playboy business tycoon. Earlier this winter, to express his respect for Hefner, Ebert posted an essay on his web site. Being a non-racist, as is Hefner, Ebert’s essay included a tasteful photo of a nude black playmate from June of 1975, the fifth black playmate, and the first one to have African features.

Of course, given the human rights nature of the essay, it would have been jarring, even hypocritical to write, in the first or second paragraph, that he was including a nude. For Ebert the human body would not be dirty, a warning would not be appropriate.

Did Ebert think about surfers? What I think is that when it comes to art and literature, people engaging their left-brain gear won’t savor a short story, and won’t linger in appreciation of any pictures: not a Picasso, not a Raphael and not a photo by Hefner. I suppose, too, that people who are rushing through essays at work won’t read deeply, won’t gaze off with reverence and increasing excitement at something by Plato or Thomas Paine. Instead they will sprint along the words without hearing the music. In their mad dash they won’t even notice any (hypothetical) second paragraph sentence about being “not safe for work.” Perhaps it’s poetic karma, then, when they conjure up the beautiful Miss June in their cubicles.

I have always believed there are men and women who “only buy Playboy for the articles.” I am less confident of claims of “I only surf at lunch time.” Poor Ebert, being an honorable man, forgot about those who are less honorable.

After Ebert posted, a lot of people scolded him. Here is my favorite comment by far:

** By Andy H. on November 1, 2010 12:18 am

The real moral of this story is “don’t surf the internet at work, idiots,” What I really take umbrage at is the attitude of the right to do it and the want for your implicit participation in the act. You’re using company computers on company time. They could fire you for going on rotten tomatoes or metacritic.

This is just personal bitterness I’m bringing to the table, but I’m a college graduate who doesn’t have one of those fancy pants jabs where you sit on your butt all day checking facebook. I work minimum wage in the pits of Hell, risking life and limb in the backs of semi trailers. I come home covered in grime with scratched arms and bruised shins, picking dirt out of my nostrils and I’m still treated like I don’t do enough. Yet you gamble away your salaried position so you can read a blog about Hugh Hefner. You can’t wait three hours where you can do it at home on a better computer with a faster connection?

A lot has been written about my generation’s general lack of common sense and inability to act professional in the workplace. I now see that these accusations are probably coming from people who surf the internet at work. I mean, damn. I may have never held a “real job,” but I have witnessed firsthand what can get a person fired. Sheesh. **

I liked Ebert’s reply:

** Ebert: A gust of cold reality. Thank you. **

I suppose the saddest thing about folks who rush through the surf at work is this: Even if, on a fine Sunday, they go to a wireless café and sit back relaxing with their laptop and a sweet cup of steaming tea… they’ll still be hopelessly stuck in their left-brain gear. Still mad, still rushing.

There’s one small mercy… I guess they won’t ever grasp that by surfing at work they have destroyed their character.

Sean Crawford

With my MacBook Air,

Showing a full screen background of Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks,

 Good Earth café,

January 2011

Essays and Blogs

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Here it is, my 75^th post. My astute readers will have noticed that for every 25 “postings” I do a piece explaining essays. I say “posting,” not “blog,” because hey, I’m not a blogger: I’m an essayist. But today I'll try to explain blogs too.

When telling people I have a hobby of writing, I merely say I write “nonacademic” essays, and leave it at that. I couldn’t begin to explain in just a sound bite how the essays school kids learn to write are—ahem!— for kids. In the wider world essays start out with different goals and functions, and of course follow different forms. Open any magazine and see: An adult essay never ends with “in conclusion;” it very seldom begins with a topic sentence as a thesis to be “proven.” Such writing would be “bad form.”

I’ve heard that essays in The New Yorker will begin by meandering along and then finally, at the bottom of the first page, announce the topic. This form allows busy New Yorkers, in their fast-paced city, a nice chance to stop rushing… and fix on something that rewards an adult attention span. I wish internet blogs were simularly aimed at adults.

It was a guy with a decent attention span, Paul Graham, who inspired me to do my own internet essays. Graham noted, in his Age of the Essay, that the internet had existed for a few years before people figured out they could use it for blogs. (web log or public diary, with people's comments) His hope was that soon people would figure out they could use it for essays too. This hasn’t happened yet, and I’m losing hope it ever will. So far, no one else writes wide ranging essays like Graham, while my number of bookmarked essayists I can count on the fingers of one hand—not including my thumb.

I was at university when personal computers arrived for the public—but not for the university, not yet. Computers weren’t quite an everyday topic of conversation for people, not nearly as often as when color TVs or 10-speeds arrived, but still there was a trace of the old “left out” feeling if you didn’t have one. Naturally, among us starving students, only the nerds were motivated enough to get one. After all, a computer cost more than a used car.

I remember, back then, being at a seminar of people from Strategic Studies. Some one asked why armies still had those big expensive all-too-vulnerable tanks. I quipped, “Tanks are like personal computers: Everyone knows you should have them… but no one knows quite what to do with them.” As for computers, what we did with them was do household accounts, write letters, address envelopes and, uh… mostly guys resorted to playing computer games like Space Invaders.