Genius + Twitter = :(

A few moons back, there appeared upon the planet a strange and curious new entity called the Internet. At first, (and I’m speaking of the post-academic Internet here) it went by names like Compuserv and America On-Line for people who didn’t know any better, and it was touted as this big equalizing force that would help mankind ascend to loftier heights of wisdom and understanding. But mostly, it was just animated .GIFs and porn. Now, it’s modern classics of literature. And porn.

My love hate love hate love hate tender loathing of modern services like Twitter is well documented, if not entirely understood. I myself don’t know why I continue to tweet, but I think Warren Ellis said it best when he recently summed up Twitter as “Sort of a brain condom for synapse muck.” He describes the service as, “It’s basically mental slurry, the wet lumpy bits from a day spent at the keyboard vented off into a trap so the buildup doesn’t blow some crucial valve in my head.” There’s wisdom there, I think. Of course, he often tweets stuff like, “Good morning, sinners. You may bring me unicorn bacon now,” which just goes to show you how genius and insanity are often rolled into one deliciously weird package, like shampoo-plus-conditioner or the sugary part of a healthy breakfast that has a few bits of fruit tossed in.

Speaking of Twitter, there’s a new game in town called One Book, One Twitter that aims to get gazillions of people  the world over all reading and discussing the same book together. It sounds like a good idea at first glance, but like so many things in this strange and miserable world, I’m against it. The book they’ve chosen to launch this new social experiment is American Gods, by Neil Gaiman – which is a tremendously clever book that I heartily recommend not reading – at least not on Twitter. The book’s prose is finely crafted by one of the few remaining writers who gives a damn about things like sentence structure and narrative flow, and the idea of chopping his meticulously chosen nouns and verbs to fit into the constraints of Twitter’s 140 character limit is a form of literary blasphemy I’ll not soon forgive. It’s right up there with how I imagine something like the Conservative Bible Project feels to people who give a crap about things like the Conservative Bible Project.

It’s not that I’m against the idea of serializing a great work of literature. Some of my best friends have been serialized, from David Copperfield to Sherlock Holmes and back again to Philip Pirrip and Estella Havisham. I’ve nothing against the idea itself; in fact, I think it’s something we could certainly do with in today’s functionally illiterate world. However, in the current brother-can-you-spare-a-dime economic climate, newspapers and magazines are reluctant to embrace the idea of the serialized novel, and after reading much of what many writers try to pass off as literature today, I’m inclined to support their positions. Still, the concept is sound and has produced some of history’s best novels – but slipping a chapter into each edition of a monthly periodical is a little bit different than slicing and dicing your way through a complete work, 140 characters at a time.

I’d hoped that Neil would have objected to the idea, but he’s actually embraced it, if a bit reluctantly. It’s great exposure for the book, and hopefully it will drive some of the electron-addicted netizens following @1b1t2010 to go out and buy the book. I can’t help but suspect it’s more likely to drive up illegal downloads of the novel than actual purchases though, but I’m a cynical bastard. Still, the only thing that seems to bother Neil about the whole affair isn’t the idea of Tweeting one of his books, but rather which of his many books @1b1t2010 chose to tweet. American Gods is a love it or hate it sort of thing, and anyone put off by it isn’t likely to pick up some of his other works that they’d probably love, like the recent and wonderful The Graveyard Book. It’d be a real shame if potential readers were kept from his other books – or from American Gods itself – due to the Twitter experiment. I’ll watch it with interest, but I’m not following the feed. I have to draw the line somewhere, and if I want to re-read American Gods, it’s only a short walk to whichever one of my bookshelves it’s currently hiding in. I’ve yet to convince my wife to read it, though. Maybe if she had a Twitter account…

Want some books? 'Course ya do!

NOTE:  I know times are hard and yeah, I need to make a living too, but if you want to read any of my books but can't afford to buy them right now, hit me up.

I'll take care of it.

Humor | Nonfiction
Available now from the following retailers

Have you ever lived through an experience that was so humiliating that you wanted to die, but when you tell it to all your friends, they can't stop laughing?

Have you ever made a decision that seemed like a good idea at the time, but you're still living with the hilarious consequences years later?

If so, then grab a snack, get comfortable, and prepare to have all of your own poor life choices seem just a little bit more bearable.

You're welcome.

Short Stories
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The nine stories of rage and sadness collected here range from the most intimate of human experiences to the wildest realms of magic and fantasy. The first story is a violent gut-punch to the soul, and the rest of them just hit harder from there.

Those who tough it out will find a book filled with as much hope as despair, a constant contradiction pulling you from one extreme to another.

Life might knock us down, over and over, and will the beat the ever-loving snot out of us from the time we're old enough to give it attitude until the day we finally let it win and stop getting up.

Always get back up.

Gaming | Nonfiction
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This isn't just a book. It's a portal to other worlds where there be magic and dragons and hilarious pirates. Okay, not really. But this book is about those portals, except they're called video games.

The Life Bytes series of books take a deep dive into one man's personal journey through childhood into kinda/sorta being a responsible, competent adult as told through the magical lens of whatever video games he was playing at the time.

Part One starts way back in 1975 and meanders down various digital pathways until, oh, around about 1993 or so.

If you're feeling nostalgic for the early days of gaming or if you just want to understand why the gamer in your life loves this hobby so much, take a seat in your favorite comfy chair and crack this bad boy open.

I'll try to not be boring.

Horror
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What you are about to read is not a story. There is no beginning, middle, or end.

What follows is nothing more than a series of journal entries involving shadow people, sleep paralysis, and crippling fear. It’s not pretty, it doesn’t follow story logic, and nothing works out well in the end.

You've been warned.