An absolutely perfect day with all kinds of small accomplishments. Those might be the best. Twenty small things done, as opposed to one or two enormous ones, right? Except the enormous ones await the next day, don’t they.
Well, put them off with another burst of small things! Rearrange the napkins in the holder so the creases are all on the top! Do some triage on the produce drawer. Clean a window. Eliminate 1000 pieces of junk mail from your inbox. (Yes, I did this. I have carpal fargin’ tunnel from it.) Answer all the Pinterest emails . . .
Yes, I did Pinterest, because if you don’t you’re behind and you cannot say you know anything about anything regarding social media. And heaven forfend I would find myself in a position where I had to say “er, no. I don’t have a Pinterest.” You can either take the scoffing approach favored by some towards all of this stuff, a position I completely understand; at first, Pinterest just seemed like one more damned internet mouth to feed, as I keep saying, but it’s frictionless. There’s a button on my browser - click, select the image, choose the board from the pop-up window, done. That’s it.
I’m getting the Lint Tumblr back up and running, since Tumblr seems to have gotten its bugs worked out, and Posterous was bought by someone and will turn into something else - Twitter, right. Or it will turn into the next social media platform, and people will simply have to have a Twitsterous, or a Posteritter, or whatever twee silly happy-clappy names these things have. They’re all infantile.
Facebook? Still no. I have the page, but don’t go there. My entire attitude towards Facebook is like a man who knows there’s a surprise party waiting upstairs in his apartment, and spends the evening in a bar, talking to a stranger. I get so tired of being asked to Like something or follow it.
I don’t mean to say I find social media annoying or useless: on the contrary. Facebook is too static. Too slow. Twitter is a stroll down a busy street listening to different conversations; Pinterest is a museum / thrift store / attic you can visit when you please. Facebook seems like hamming pitons in a sheer cliff wall and climbing up, up, up, for no particular reason.
I’ll give you an example of what I like about Twitter, aside from the endless flow of links and news and pith and wit. Someone I followed posted a link to a picture of his writing set-up in a hotel; there was a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon on the table, and I sent back a DM recommending the rye version. He said it was - the bottle was turned around, the tell-tale green label couldn’t be seen. Now, the guy’s a cop in LA. Never met him. I think he listens to the radio show I’m on, which airs in LA. This isn’t useful, or necessary.
But it is a hoot. Twitter’s the one thing I’ve never tired of.
Anyway:
There you go. Just a few things, and yes, it serves as a self-promotion for the site. I hate to spoil the web with self-promotion, but someone has to take the first step.
Oh my no.
Or yes? I don’t know. If I was 23 and it was summer I might wear one. If it was 1984. Trouble is, there’s matching pants. And ties. But this is like what people think the 80s were like, instead of what they really were. Now, make that jacket aquamarine, Miami Vice style, and now we’re talking.
I suppose I'd have more but I spent the night reading, then cobbling together the teaser video for "Graveyard Special." You'll see it Friday.
Appetites will be whetted, I hope.
The book's only $2.99. It's not like I'm asking a fortune for the thing. This is an experiment, my friends! A grand experiment, and it'll be great if everyone pitches in.
So like it on Facebook when it comes out, okay? Nevermind all that stuff above. I LOVE FACEBOOK.
A few Disney titles for your amusement, as the 1940s section ends with - whew - about 130 pages. It concludes here. See you around!