A Curmudgeon, Curmudgeoning

Remember back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, when…

…no. You probably don’t remember that. I’m guessing that was probably 20 years or so before most of you were even born.

Okay, kids, gather round. I want to tell you about how things were, back in the Used to Be.

It used to be that bands would put out albums, and they were enormous. I’m not talking about file size, I’m talking about physical size. An album cover was a little over a foot long per side, so it had plenty of room for pictures. Sometimes the covers opened out into two or even three panels. Sometimes there were even whole books in there, and you could read stories or whatever weird shit the band wanted to tell you, follow along with lyrics, and gaze at images while the vinyl disc on your turntable played the music. It often took longer to go through all the printed stuff than it did to play the album. It was a whole thing—you didn’t buy an album just for the songs, but for the experience. As the music, words, and images wove themselves together, a custom narrative grew inside your own mind.

Remember back in the ‘90s and early ‘00s, when…

Oh, come on. I’m sure most of you aren’t that young. You can at least remember this part of the Used to Be, can’t you?

It used to be that the Internet was something that lived in your desktop computer. You went to it on purpose. It showed up on a big, clunky monitor, where pages had room to spread out. Hell, you could fit two or three pages on the screen and look at them side-by-side, if the person who made the site knew how to code frames properly—and it was people, real people, making websites back in those days. Most of them weren’t even trying to sell you anything or convince you to “like and subscribe” or get involved in a comments section. They did it for no other reason than that they loved their subject matter and it was fun to make. If anyone else liked their work, that was awesome, too. You could maybe write them an email, if you were so inspired, but there was no place on their site to broadcast whatever thoughts happened to be going through your mind in the moment. You could even make your own site, if you had a passion and the patience to learn a little code, and it didn’t have to fit into any pre-formatted content management layouts! These early webmasters followed their own vision, because there weren’t a lot of other options. Others’ opinions about their work were secondary at best—but more likely, completely irrelevant. A web site was a work of art, a glimpse into the creator’s reality, and if you don’t like it, so what? Go look at something else.

Can you imagine?

You can probably guess where I’m going with this.

We have so much more music at our fingertips than we used to, and it’s always playing, but…is anyone really listening?

The art scene is absolutely glutted with “images”, but…is anyone really looking?

The Internet has grown exponentially over the years, so why does it seem so…small?

I don’t know anyone who still does deep dives into the worlds that music creates. We let algorithms make the playlist, and it comes to us in random orders, based on the type of digitally-programmed beats and wheedly-bits that the machine thinks will keep us listening long enough to make another penny or two for the streaming service. Music is background noise, a soundtrack for our multitasking.

The Internet is all about “content” now, but it seems like most of those who produce it have no love for their craft. We don’t visit websites out of genuine interest; we just click, click, click when our emotions take the bait. The headlines make us feel anger, or fear, or superiority, and we just have to quick check to make sure we’re angry and afraid and feeling smug for the right reasons.

The Internet lives in tiny screens in our pockets. There’s barely room for one image or paragraph at a time these screens, let alone an entire gallery where creators can really display all of their thoughts and ideas in a way that gives you a feel for what you’re getting into. We scroll through art on social media sites—paintings and sculptures that took weeks (or months, or years) to create pass across our screens in a second. We might read the first paragraph or two of an essay. We stop on a post long enough to affirm that we “like” it, but we don’t have time to think about why we like it. The tiny, infinite feed is calling, and if we don’t keep up, we’ll miss the next thing. Scroll, scroll, scroll.

The loners are still out there, building their strange, sprawling worlds for themselves and anyone who cares to explore, but those worlds probably won’t cross your feeds. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with them, anyway. Not as long as you allow the algorithms to steer your attention and drag you through all their assumptions about who you are and what you want, according to your demographic and browser history. Why would you care about content or craft, when there are so many franchises to monetize? Here are your assigned opinions, now go forth and argue! Let’s get those page views up! While you’re at it, look at these ads. Check out our sponsors! Get your own official travel mug! Like and subscribe to see more products like this!

Sigh.

I grew up in the Used to Be, and that’s where I learned to do the things I do and think the way I think, and I think…I think I’m going to stay there. I’ll try to accommodate the Ways of Now where I can—I mean, sure, I like attention, and I want others to see my work. But I wanna show you everything. And my everything doesn’t fit in the tiny, clamoring cage we’ve built around ourselves.

TL; DR: Please put your phone down and look at my sites on a big monitor. And if you don’t like it, go look at something else, or better yet, make your own.