As much as i

As much as I hate jargon, i hate blog posts about hating jargon even more.

Nothing dreadful will happen if you say “core competency,” or “bottom line,” et al.

Your head won’t explode. Go ahead and say these terms if they feel right within the flow of the real message you want to convey.

Otherwise people will begin to stop saying jargon terms, but for the same reason that started saying them in the first place: because someone else told them it was cool to do so.

But why the marketing dirge? I dunno. I still hate marketing and sales. I hate having to do marketing and sales for someone else who I care little about. If i had my own company then maybe I’d enjoy it. Nobody cares about your baby like you do.

Now. Where was I? Oh yeah: As much as I hate jargon…i say it a lot. I can’t change that, so all I can do is argue that it’s okay, in retrospect, or feel a doofus in the balance.

Fuck off. how dare you read this, whoever you are. leave a drunk man to his thoughts, show a guy some privacy. hello? hello??? aw fuck all.

Hey ga… I mean SJ,

Jargon works because when you use it, you’re on the ‘in’ with whatever group uses it on a daily basis. The problem with using it in marketing is that the target group hears it as shop talk and ignores it. The only people who might listen are the target group wannabe’s. Consider: The goal is to attract foodies who want to play “chef” in their kitchen. So we play up the term ‘chifonade’ when chopping up herb leaves. A real chef doesn’t hve to be told how or what that term means or how to perform the task, but we don’t care about him, we’re trying to sell a pair of kitchen shears to the wannabe’s that performs the chifonade process with ease. Most important, we’ve elevated the rank amateur to the exalted position of chef, because he too, can chifonade with the best of 'em if he’ll buy a pair of these kitchen shears. Selling jargon is selling little ‘badges’ that makes the wannabe’s ‘special’.

So start your own business. Hell, it couldn’t be any worse than working for the other guy.

Of course, all this is predicated on the assumption that you are interested in the art BEHIND marketing. The problem with marketing is that the successful persuaders are also the persuaded and if you aren’t persuaded then… :unamused:

If there is any fun in marketing, it is in developing the strategies behind the jargon, the flash, the jingles, the…

You’re welcome to ignore this and have another drink…

  1. I have my own business. It’s unfortunately a marketing business.

  2. I wasn’t referring to jargon in marketing per se, but more in regard to the trades and meetings, which make up most of a marketer’s life, and consider that much of marketing these days is B to B, where jargon is fully rampant and needs no explanation as to why.

  3. Everything you said was of course smart. Especially the ga… part. Wise you did not finish that word. That guy scares me. If he were around today he’d tear me several new ones for what I did to his legacy and potential, by breaking character and devolving into the writer of slutty prose, i.e. one who will write fuckin’ anything, without discernment of what’s mediocre and what’s gameritorious.

  4. There is nothing fun about marketing for me anymore. I am retiring this year since even though I hate it I’m so good at it that I can retire at a very young age.

  5. Now what?

Write more of what is worth reading, jerk.

OK. so you’ve quit before you retired (in mind). What’s the fucking hurry? Why the need to fill in the ‘now what’ blanks? How about retiring and sitting on your ass for a year? Clean house mentally and physically. Become the blank page and wait - wait until you’re sick of yourself. Your next ‘career’ will come along when it is damn well ready and if you try to force it, you’ll be right back where you started. Who knows what will wander into your field of vision? Perhaps you’ll find your rewards in being a fry cook or maybe a brain surgeon. it’s more likely to be something in between. Wait for it. It will happen.

The problem with true creativity is that it is it’s own judge and jury. It doesn’t care about what ‘others’ think. It doesn’t compare itself to everyone else’s highlight reel. It is both agony and ecstacy, and you will never escape that. There will never be enough mind-numbing drugs in the world to keep SJ from the extreme highs and lows. Get used to that. Embrace it. After all the smoke and mirrors over the years, you occasionally fucked up and wrote from heart/mind. Yeah, you wrote reams of bullshit, but once in awhile… So relax for a bit. Rest up. Let it come to you instead of chasing after. I love watching creativity in others. It’s satisfying to see the confirmation of constant struggle. It takes away some of the pain. Bottom line: (jargon) You will never escape waiting for the muse. It is your curse along with the rare blessing. So join the fucking club. I’ll expect to read exultation and despair and despair and exultation. Why we signed up for the gig fuck all knows, but it is what it is (more cliche jargon).

I didn’t know what your creative endeavor was/is. I guess I was slow to ask. What have you been up to then. Writing? Reading anything good?

I just read a strange little number called Ready Player One. If “Created By Warren Robinet,” means anything to you, then you should read Ready Player One. If those aforementioned words mean nothing to you, you might do well to avoid Ready Player One. If you’ve ever become good friends with someone online only to discover that Dunamis is a 600 black woman from Nigeria (sexy) then you should probably read ready player one. If he turned out to be an ordinary white guy who does marketing (icK) you should read ready player one.

And that concludes my ambient foothills review of a very good book, a review in a very poor forum. The average iq of the people reading this review is over 130 at least. The number of people reading it is probably one or two if you count me.

I can’t write reviews when people are dying. I got bit by a cat two years ago. Sometimes I think that the cat killed the curiosity. Socrates might want to ask why and why again, but I just want to eat some sort of fried beef and go to sleep. Fuck why. FFFFuck why. Just once I;d like Socrates to say why to me, and I’ll say “cuz of this,” and shoot him in the face with a 44 Magnum PI.

JT religion is still around, you know that? What have you been doing to get off? What have you been mulling over and talking about with passion, tentative it may be. Invite me to join, i’m too thirsty to bob and weave through these sand blown caves without a map. I barely had enough plasma to get this far…

I checked Amazon… Is this the Ernest Cline novel? Are we talking Robinett of Atari fame? If I’m going to dive down the rabbit hole, I want to know it’s the right one…

yes that’s the one. but you need to be aware of 80s detritus for the book to hit the sweet spot. my guess is in 1980 you were probably old enough to be cognizant of pop culture. very cognizant indeed. Too cognizant, perhaps.

in my last post I had some death imagery and upon rereading it I should mention it was written after the ambien kicked in. the spell check changed ambien to ambient and the metaphor was lost. reading that post, now, it almost sounds like I admitted to contracting a slow burning form of fatal rabies from a cat and was dying. i mention plasma, people dying, having no energy; and knowing what a sensitive reader you are you might have misunderstood. the ambien translation to all that is simply: I’m feeling kinda uninspired and mired. i did in fact get bit by a cat but i was fine. it’s a girl cat that my wife calls Peter – I have no idea why. Peter almost died when we had her fixed back in the crash of 2009. Peter came home and began wailing then passed out from internal bleeding. At 2am I took this stupid creature to Animal hospital and spent my LAST $2,000 on surgery. the cat lived and so did we.

Ready Player One has some of the best prose regarding VR in any scifi I’ve read, and the theme of friendship is poignant. If you paid any attention to 80s culture in a geek sort of way, which I’m hoping you did, you will enjoy it, because even tho it takes place in the future, the protagonists are 80s historians.

tentative, a couple of excellent posts from you above. Nice work!

I’m going to answer all this backwards. So many questions, so much to give comment…

Uninspired and mired. It happens. Usually it’s because we’ve failed to delete and shitcan and we need to defragment. There is only so much memory available, and if we don’t purge now and then the machine freezes up. Less is more? (jargon) But if it’s true for silicon and plastic, it is also true for the mind. Letting go of last week’s ‘laundry list’ is just as, or perhaps more, important when we hit the wall. I’ve been to the wall any number of times, sometimes for a few days and in one case almost a fucking year. Stasis ain’t fun. Still, I learned that the way out is to stop fighting with it. Rely on your innate curiosity and it works it’s way out. Burn out usually occurs when we start reading our own press and get the stupid idea that we’re invulnerable to the layers of shit we wade through on a daily basis. If there is a human failing in todays world, it is outsmarting one’s self and getting suspended in the abstractions.

Cats… Nice to hear of another dumbass and cats. I would share several similar stories since I’ve had a long career dealing with them - but I won’t. It’s embarrassing.
Cats are like our human friends. When we’re busy, they’re in our face wanting a pet, or take me to lunch. But when we need a little contact, it’s fuck you, I’m busy licking my ass. I think cats are reincarnated humans being punished for being assholes in a prior life. Why we will go to any lengths caring for these perverse creatures only draws one conclusion: dumbass. Cats should be lke goldfish. When their time is up… (flushing noises)

I’ll get to the rest a little later… Oh, and I Kindled the book. I’m taking your word for it that I’ll be enthralled and inspired…

Good stuff, tentative.

I didn’t do it for the cat. I did it for the girl who was crying about the cat. It was an investment pregnant with meaning. I didn’t want to be haunted by the wrong gesture for the rest of my life. Anyways, I made all the money back and a lot more, too. One might say too much.

Artists go bad, it happens. Look at YHF and AGIB, and then flash forward to SBS and Wilco the album. Tweedy’s health and life improved and stabilized and his art lost that otherworldly profundity. He probably doesn’t even know it, or if he does, he has changed his reason for making art in the first place, which is fine for him.

There is a time around the age 34 or 36 or 41 when mystery seems to die. All the thoughts have been thunk, all the mysteries and question marks have been neatly sorted away, some answered, some not. All the smells and tastes and sites have been phenotyped and catalogued. All the emotions have been probed and jarred and pickled.

All the ennui has been ranted about, the kinds of loves have been sung, the weaknesses have been sunburned and the strengths have been cashed in.

The final analysis leaves us with the directive to “give outward,” to “stay young,” to “keep growing,” to “live in the moment,” and these techniques are practiced and repeated and tattooed into our skin like gospel, and eventually woven into our helixes.

And then you look at your art and the sky is no longer cobalt. It’s just blue. The lies that touch at the sublime and betray something primal are no longer trumpeting, and truth lays on the page, small and speechless, like the word yes.

So much needs to be done. But very little NEW needs to be done. We must talk the talk as we breathe, or remain silent and inert while those you might help and causes you might champion carry out their scripts without you. We all die and this is more a conversation of what to do. I know one thing NOT to do is complain, or at least complain too long. To keep trying is the only option.

To settle into a mediocre oblivion is so inviting…i have no problem waiting and doing nothing, I’ve been doing that for a while. I don’t need to defragment, what I need is a challenge that matters, a fire under the ass that nobody is going to light and I ran out of matches a while ago, matches for me being giving a fuck what people think, needing approval.

And what do I think of myself? That’s the question. My actions suggest I’m content with being instead of doing. But my words suggest otherwise.

Inconveniently it seems, you can’t just simply do the former without doing the latter. And as I embark on the latter, it threatens the former.

Wow, you’re good.

OK. I did the same cat stuff for the same reasons. I had three children and each one had several cats over time. The fucking vet knew me by first name - and we weren’t friends.

So it’s ennui is it? Yeah, One can get to the been there, done that stage. I’ve had a couple of bouts with that. Your description prompts a couple of questions.

First, why do you give a fuck what other people think? Why do you need anyone’s approval but your own? Of course this is just a suggestion, but it seems to me that until I’ve answered those questions, there isn’t any way forward - or backward, sideways, or any other ways. If I define myself by all the externals then there is precious damn little inside. You’re more than a shiny shell basking in the approval of all around you. So just part of answering those questions is accepting that there is an inside, and it’s inside that all challenges truly exist.

Side comment: This is me. Fuck what other people think. I’m me, the way I am. You don’t like it, it’s your problem. I’ll be the judge of who I am, what I do, and what sort of space I’ll occupy. I’m responsible for all the who, what, where, and how I am. You’re responsible for how you take it. I’m not living my life for your approval or disapproval. I’m a selfish motherfucker and it’s all about ME.

So the sky doesn’t dazzle anymore? Well, good! Seeing it as it is isn’t a loss, it’s a positive. Gone are all the fantasy notions, the pink unicorns, and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It just might be that the real wonder is in seeing the mysteries as they really exist with all the strengths and weaknesses, the beauty and ugliness, of everything and everyone around us. It’s conceivable that in our rush to accomplish, to be accomplished, we might have missed a few things along the way. Oh, and I don’t mean ‘stop and smell the roses’. Fuck that. Maybe we need to probe a bit deeper to the places where it ain’t roses and the odors are found in the toilet instead of the garden. Stripping away the illusions and delusions as far as we can might leave us leaner, not quite as shiny, but there is a small chance that what is left is authentic. Authenticity is a vague cliche, but it isn’t when applied to yourself. Only you can know whether you’re being or being as…

I’ll take up the challenge issue later. Right now, I gotta go fix dinner.


I finished the book. I need a gestation period for a bit. The content and storyline was entertaining, but the underlying premise needs a bit more thought. This is a book that needs to be read maybe three or four times. Oddly, it dovetails with a number of conversations I’ve had with a few other netizens in the last few years. Anyone on the net should read this book. Good stuff.

So I’m curious, would you be tempted to use the button?

I saw the book as a gift to people who grew up in the 80s, mainly the geeks. It’s also interesting how the author managed to weave in some life-affirming themes and poignant ideas about relationships. And like I said, one of the finest expositions of virtual reality committed to prose.

My dad, incidentally is a 1943 model, apropos of nothing. He wouldn’t get through ten pages of Ready Player One without pitching it across the room. When I was ferreting out secret dots on Adventure Atari, or brain-sweating over the 4 worlds contest, (I never got past Earthworld, I discovered a different joystick that year) he was reading Uncle Scrooge comics and reminiscing about Roy Rogers. He used to watch a show called Tales Of Tomorrow, but those tales never had anything to do with easter eggs.

For him, and most 1943-ers, I assume Spielberg hit the nostalgia sweet spot years ago with Raiders of the Lost Ark, tying together comic book storyboarding with all the great exotic adventures of the 50s from King Solomon’s Mines, to Tarzan, to whatever. Nostalgia trips of the 60s and 70s also abound. My dad would have no interest in nostalgia from the 80s, since his synapses were already formed and cemented by then, the magic of the NEW was all but gone…

And why the mini-study on my dad? It takes us back to the OP and the questions posed about life and vitality, inspiration, waning around the age 40. Or even a mellowing, a setting of the clay in the kiln, an end to a kind of plasticity and sloppiness and ignorance that makes for GREAT art-making.

Enter the age of DISCIPLINE and EXPERIENCE. I guess it takes some getting used to. Maybe once I get used to it, I’ll prefer it, but for now it feels like the old gears are gone – I need to find a new, new joystick.

I don’t care what others think of me, but I don’t like to be unseen or misunderstood. Connection is one of life’s great elixirs, and to connect, you must be seen. Authenticity is key for this to happen. But sometimes authentic communication doesn’t tell the full story. I can write a paragraph of authentic prose, but it’s not art.

INSIGHT: I need to graduate from inauthentic prose (that which posed as ART) up to authentic art. What I think I may have done was go from inauthentic prose to authentic prose. Inauthentic prose can be a way to approximate art. Authentic prose can’t. What I seek is a method of authentic ART, but first to do that I have to accept that perhaps I have never been an artist.

What more can be said. Joni Mitchell said it already about clouds. Even though I feel like I know what life is after 40 for me, I really don’t. I’ve seen both sides. I’m patiently waiting for a third I guess.

Curious to know how you process this information. You said yourself you like to watch people try to grow, and that’s the only thing allowing me to hit “submit” on this one-sided study. (Well, maybe not the only thing. Anonymity affords a self-centered behavior I would never hazard irl. Will I reciprocate? Try me, anytime.)


Being a '43 model, I didn’t indulge in the video gaming, but I watched my two boys burn through every video system ever offered. (I ran a pawnshop - ie - candy store for teenagers.) We always had a computer in the house starting with the TI-99 and every new iteration as they came along. That, plus I was a sci-fi freak from my own teenage years, so most of the references in the book weren’t that difficult to follow. I have no problem understanding your experiences growing up. My two were a bit behind you, but not by much.

I get the generational “gap” thing. I could never play video games because I grew up in a world of mechanical linkage. Gears and levers… I simply wasn’t ‘wired’ electronically like you and my boys. At first, it pissed me off, getting whupped by my own kids, but then I noticed that they weren’t all that adept at things mechanical. If pushing reset wasn’t available, they weren’t quite comfortable and on occasion, even had to ask me for help with mechanical stuff.

I do see the ‘difference’. Amusing that you are seeing the difference looking back, and I see that same difference looking forward. But just a simple observation, that which is ‘new’ is always within the life cycle. What was new in the 80’s (for you) reaches maturity and finally passes away. Wisdom is in acceptance that the world of experience and you inside of that is simply part of the life cycle and that means coming into being, reaching maturity, and returning to the flow. I know, big DUH… But knowing this creates the necessity of re-invention if we wish to continue being curious and creative. Few are willing to accept the challenge. Most give up and fall into bowling leagues and reality TV. Re-inventing ourselves is hard work.

Authentic art… I haven’t any way to describe that except to myself, and it isn’t in words. The best I can offer is that art is authentic when I can sense that heart/mind have collaborated and that bitch muse has favored me. I haven’t mentioned my creative efforts, mostly because the content is irrelevent. It is the process that’s important. I know that I’m being a creator when “I/Me” disappears and there is only the flow of the process. From that comes the authenticity. Sounds like fuzzy bullshit, doesn’t it? Perhaps it is, but over several decades I have seen that there are always a few who have the sensitivity to see that tentative has something going on. They may not know WHAT the hell that is, but it is there. That is the connect, and there is never enough, but maybe just enough to keep me going.

Ultimately, I don’t get overly concerned about it. The results of creativity are seen or not seen by others and it really isn’t a big factor in my continual efforts. I have no idea why some of us are driven by curiosity to create. It is a curse and blessing at the same time. My experience says that creativity evolves and comes and goes in conjunction with our evolving life cycles. It’s almost humiliatingly funny. Each new creative effort has it’s learning curve, and being a complete noob over and over is sometimes embarrassing. but you get used to it. Oh, about growing… If you’re comfortable and know how it ends, you’re already dead. Being curious, being creative, is being uncomfortably ALIVE, going places you’ve never been, not knowing how it will turn out. Is that a good definition of authenticity? Is it accepting the triumphs and failures that come of just being alive? I suspect that might be it.

You still didn’t answer my question… would you push the button? :wink:

There’s a lot there to think about. I’m going to reread it a few times and for a few days and see if I can gain some clarity and respond, but it’s already good medicine. No, I wouldn’t push the button. Would you?

You do have something going on, you’re an artist. I don’t know exactly what you do, but it’s something. I can see that.

Yeah, I’m about half through my second reading, trying to pick up the subtleties I missed the first time. Getting a feel for the RL he projects makes me want to push the button, but to lose all that OASIS can be says no. Really mixed emotions about that. If you look at where we are, and then push that out another 30 or 40 years, RL ain’t looking that sweet. The net needs OASIS and maybe, just maybe, we’d quit killing each other in such large numbers. The problem with VR is that RL won’t ever go away and I can’t see the former replacing the latter. What the hell is the synthesis? Even in my wildest futurist moments, I can’t find that sweet spot - if there is one.

You don’t have to look around too much to see OASIS happening in all it’s primitive forms right now. The creativity is there, but too few can participate. Are we too early? And we both have the same question. Where the hell do I fit in all of this? I’m lucky. Being an old man, my fall-back position is nothing but a lame excuse. I’ll be dead before it get’s too interesting. You’re stuck with having to come up with some substantive answers. Maybe the answer is to move to Goose Island and fuck around flying RC Pterydactyls?

When I said I was rereading, I meant your post chock full of wisdom, not the book by Ernest Cline.

For me this is falling into daily rituals that involve upkeep (parenting, household, exercise, etc.) and diversion (TV, web, books, gabbing with friends). The hard work has more to do with getting caught up deep in the fray of one of my own creations and producing something eye-opening, whether it’s music or writing. This used to be how I define myself, and how I derive a sense of place in the universe. I recall several times a palpable loss of fear of death or self-consciousness of any weaknesses or regrets, while caught in the throes of creative work. So many reasons why I need to find something like that again.

Getting all three to line up is the whole thing. I had plenty of mind and muse and very little heart back in my more productive periods. Realizing the importance of heart now, and having it, only hurts more that it can’t be served by the muse or intellect that once seemed so overflowing.

Yes, exactly. And in theory, process should be available to all of us 24/7, if we make process itself the goal.

A precious and waning few in my life…and they forgive me a multitude of sins and lack of productivity. The identity I once enjoyed is being averaged with the years of wasteland, and averaged is a fitting word.

This is heartening. I have been blindsided with vitality more than once, and it’s usually after the darkest nights, it’s always following the end of the world, when hope finally dies. Only then can new seeds bloom.

I suspect there’s more to it than being uncomfortable. It’s being comfortable with being uncomfortable. It’s relinquishing something but seizing something else in the process. It’s that seizing that has been on hold, on delay, and eludes me…and it doesn’t feel authentic. It feels cowardly and dishonest somehow. It’s naive to think that honesty is merely a choice. Like a stroke victim learning to pick up a spoon, it can be a challenge.

Ready Player One: I’m glad my recommendation turned out to warrant a second reading and analysis. I agree that the synthesis is hard to imagine, but like me, I’m sure it’s crossed your mind that we already have lived in a virtual reality for thousands of years – the representations in our mind are pieced together by indirect substrate. We don’t ever really experience the RL, and VR just takes it a step further, where we do what we’ve always done, which is to modify both our environment and ourselves to meet our needs and desires. To say we can’t find a synthesis, can’t find a place to contain and encapsulate our wet hard drives, isn’t really accurate. Nature has already devised one: the skull. What goes on outside these skulls, in terms of physics, is never touched by our experience, it’s only a data source that’s emulated in our haptic suit nervous systems. What is relevant, is the sense of connection we have, the need for social dynamic in human experience. But we are already creatures of solitude in dark, dank spaces.

I do hope the technology catches up in time to include elders like you into the fucking singularity party, whatever that means. There is such value in wisdom and experience. My children will never be able to fancy what life was like without instant access to information, instant gratification on screens, just as I will never truly know what life was like for you growing up, all the patience and slowness and self-reliance and appreciation that has been lost in the balance.

Me? I wrote something chock full of wisdom? No fucking way. All I was doing was trying to bring forth YOUR wisdom since it’s the only wisdom that counts. I haven’t got any wisdom yet, but I’m working on it. :unamused:

Oh yes. The process that takes us beyond the daily mundane busy-ness. This probably isn’t much help, but I found that my bursts of creativity came when I stopped looking for them. I can’t say whether its works for anyone but me, but creatvity always alternates with dry spells where I’m almost numb to thought or doing jack shit. But being a curious-about-everything bastard, something pops into my pea brain and then it’s dog on a bone and “I” disappears along with all the nagging uncertainties of frail humanity. The difference is living instead of merely existing. Being in a creative time and mode is glorious, but I think that the dry spells are an integral part of that process. If I were creative all the time, how would I know and appreciate the difference?

Sometimes, it’s possible to let mind run away with us and we don’t listen to our heart. This is particularly true when we are young and haven’t the depth of life experience to tell us that balance is needed. As we gather experience, we “mellow”, which is good and bad at the same time. As we move through our life cycles, we always bring with us the preceding experiences. It can bog us down if we let it, or it can be an invaluable resource if we’re up to the challenge. We can remain creative, but it is always a different sort of creativity. If we can make an error, it is wishing for, or demanding the same simplistic creativity of our youth. Re-inventing ourselves just might include re-defining what is creative in our here and now. As for lining up all three progenitors of creative effort, I haven’t any answer. It just happens when it happens. The muse is a real bitch. She’ll smother you with kisses and then cut you off for no good reason.

Yes. And being on hold is that dry spell. I understand the fear that it may never change, that creativity will never return. But that was the risk we took when we signed the contract. so far, I’ve been lucky. I wish I could have had more creative periods, but I’ve had enough to get by. I think you will too. This conversation is a pretty strong indicator that your down will turn into an up of some kind when it is ready. Our worlds are not cast in stone. Novelty and sponteneity is part of life - thank goodness.

I’ll answer the Ready Player One issues a little later. Mundane RL is calling…