Friday, June 18, 2010


So many people have got something to say, they come out of school, whatever school they've been to, but you can bet it weren't the school of hard knocks -- their parents went into debt up to their eyeballs to make sure the knocks were soft -- where they've been exposed to kulchur, the sweet things in life that make you human while waiting for the caffeine to kick in, Sugar, all things being equal. They hung out in packs like wolves, domesticated wolves, and they experimented with sex and drugs, experimented, experienced, were exposed to: life, poot, is a whole bunch of effin exes. These are nice people, thank-you please kind of people. Some of 'em even got a good work ethic. It makes no difference if they're Jewish or Asian or Christian or White or even Black or Spanish, they're fixing to report on what they've seen, because they've got something to say, despite the fact that they're living in a world of fakery, inauthenticity, thinking gadgets, all these shite piles they've been bequeathed by the acid-heads who preceded them. Hey, don't go there when you're talking about my kids, poot, it's an effin war out there, all these artistic, creative kids, singers, photographers, dancers, writers, painters, collagists, actors, dramatists, film-makers, look at all the effin film-makers, mediators all, what do you expect, none of 'em get it unless it's been framed just so. All of them, and this is serious now, have something to say. Just like we did back before Reagan and disco and having to make a living, although we sucked at it, dint we, poot?

Hey you bigtime publishers you are dinosaurs. Dont you know your days are numbered? There is oversupply and underdemand and no turning back on ebooks. This is a DIY industry now.

No effin fidelity, the whole shebang lo-fi, deliberately so, just to get away from the sheeny, shiny stuff. Hand-made, used, previously owned, a tatty tablecoth upon which you find arrayed someone else's stuff. An oil can, a steak knife set, wind chimes, an ashtray, washcloths, some kind of awful lamp. Getting rid of everything, paring down, traveling light, shaking the pebbles out of your sneakers, carving a niche for yourself. Remember: if you choose your objects carefully, if you enumerate the contents of your characters' lives, you will create an authentic world, and others will
get it. Listen, child, you can steer clear of emotions and straight narrative if you get the contents of the room right. This goes for you too, poot. Call it socialization, biting the apple, dropping off the bridge. Who gives a dried turd what you call it? It's what connects you to the rest of the pack.

One: by 2020 no one will be reading printed books. Listen I have good crystal ball. Two: you are not content providers you are community builders. So there.

Scarcity used to be king, the key driver in the marketplace. You know: one Bible, one Shakespeare, one Beethoven, one DaVinci. Meaning some quick-talking hondler could make some money off 'em. Not anymore. No sir. Now everybody's got something to say. Nowadays abundance is king. And when abundance is king, everybody is its servant. You see them in the park, staring at the squirrels. Shite, at least the squirrels got something to eat. Nuts. They'll be sitting around with empty pockets, these well-bred people with something to say, playing with ideas they picked up around town or in some wanker's classroom, doling out big thoughts, polished and buffed like effin zirconia. People who've learned how to string a bunch of clauses together so they come out looking like a statement of some sort. That's a fact. They know how to imitate excellence. They write good code and they know they better pay lip service to elegance and simplicity and all that if they want the kids to follow 'em down the rathole. In search of imitation excellence. We were on the case, weren't we, poot? Coupla stumblebums in the shrubs. I lost my contacts back then.

Okay bigtime publishers: go find a niche and crawl into it. Like romance, or cooking, or macrame, or books about finding a niche and crawling into it. I can go on like this for a long time. Thats why they invented PechaKucha. So I would shut up at some point.

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