It’s Lagerstroemia season here in central Texas.
the uncanny valley of blogging
I used to call my blog Snakes & Ladders, because that reflected my belief that culture – culture-as-a-whole – is never simply ascending or declining, but is undergoing in its various locations constant ups and downs. But beneath that point is an image of myself as an observer and critic of this cultural moment. Now I call the blog The Homebound Symphony, in honor of the Traveling Symphony in Emily St. John Mandel’s novel Station Eleven, because I have stopped thinking of myself as an observer and critic and started thinking of myself as a preserver and transmitter. Another way to put this: Whereas I once tried to be a public intellectual, I now just want to be a … I dunno, maybe a convivial conservator.
There’s no money in being a conservator, no prestige either, and almost no attention. I am dramatically less visible now than I was a decade ago, or even five years ago. But for me that’s a feature, not a bug; I have consciously worked to make my audience smaller, chiefly by focusing on what interests me, especially when it interests almost no one else. (I have my number.) That focus warms my heart and gives me peace, so I’m going to keep doing it, even if nobody notices. Looking at the whole public-intellectual game now, I think: I’m way too old for that shit.
This change of focus has also led to a renewed commitment to blogging. If you’re a public intellectual, you may need to write books and essays to make arguments, and to intervene in the Discourse via social media, to change minds. If that’s your thing, then maybe you’d want to use Substack, since it pushes its writers towards (a) hosting comments and (b) engaging with readers via the comment section and Notes. But that is soooooo not my thing; by contrast, a blog is an ideal venue for what I want to do, which is preservation and transmission. It’s a great way to put ideas and images and musical compositions in meaningful relation, including creative tension, with one another. It’s an attention cottage.
What’s funny about all this is that a blog is probably the least cool way to communicate with people. It doesn’t have old-school cred or state-of-the-art shine; it falls into a kind of uncanny valley. To be a blogger is sort of like being that Japanese guy who makes paintings with Excel. But that suits me.
I’m telling you, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen if Gareth Southgate were alive. ⚽️
Owen Hargreaves, commenting for Fox, was in a lather about England’s passivity even before the Denmark goal — and rightly so. They do this every match! ⚽️
I wake up every morning with a song in my head. I never know what it’s going to be, maybe something I haven’t thought about in decades. Here’s what my brain served up this morning — which is, among other things, a reminder of the interesting stuff that musicians could do before sampling got quashed.
And then there’s too lo-fi … I don’t know what I took this with. My beloved on our honeymoon (forty-four years ago!) deserved better quality.
On Mount Seymour in North Vancouver, 2004. My old Sony Cybershot photos have a certain lo-fi charm, to me anyway.
Cathedral Grove, Vancouver Island, 2006; you almost expect to see a therapod from the Jurassic browsing in the ferns.
Grown-up Angus is a handsome fellow.
