Category - personal

Tales from Digital Rehab (2) Checking The Urge (to check…)

well, sorta. ok, not really...

well, sorta. ok, not really…

Somewhere I read about a study that revealed that the typical digially-addicted person can go about four minutes before they have to check their gizmo again.

I know the impuse… all to well.

I know what it feels like to slow down at a red light and immediately reach for the mobile device that’s mounted on my dashboard.

Or what it feels like to hit a lull in a conversation and cast a sideward glance at my gizmo…. hey, maybe I’ve got a new e-mail or a notification on Facebook!

And I know what it feels like to retrieve whatever is waiting for me out there in the digital firmament – only to to discover that all that’s waiting for me is near-spam, people and organizations clamoring for my attention even as I’m clamoring for something to be attentive to.

Only now I know what it feels like to feel the urge to check.  To feel the urge countless times a day but but be relieved of the temptation because there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.

I have deactivated my primary email account from both of my mobile gizmos (iPhone and iPad); I have also deleted Facebook from both devices.

So now when I feel the urge… it’s sorta like taking a long walk off a short digital pier: I feel the urge, just like I have for years, but as soon as it strikes the impulse part of the cortex (or limbic system?), some other part remembers: “There’s nothing there. Don’t bother.”

So now the temptation is a phantom – like the impulses and sensations an amputee feels from a missing limb. Like I’ve amputated my gizmos.

Again, the analogy to alcohol and drug recovery seems apt: If this concerted attempt at behavior modification – and focus/concentration recovery – is going to succeed, then it makes sense to treat this as the first 30 days of digital abstinence.  Or, at least, near abstinence.  Mobile, abstinence, at least.

And, again, in the parlance of ‘the program,’ I had a bit of a “slip” today.  I logged onto Facebook this morning just long enough to see if there was anything pressing in the form of a notification or message.

There wasn’t.  Just the usual random trivia.  But I sat there scrolling through it for five or ten minutes.  Just like sidling up to a bar and saying “I’ll just have a sip…”

So I guess that 30 days starts again tomorrow…

Tales from Digital Rehab: Kayaking is Not Multi-tasking

“We live in a media culture where we are buried in information,
but we know nothing.

Ken Burns

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI’ve just returned from five days on a marshy island called Cedar Key in the “big bend” corner of the Gulf of Mexico – where the Florida panhandle meets the peninsula.

Before I left I started disconnecting.

First I Googled the phrase “off the grid” and found images to use for my cover and profile photos on Facebook.   I have not looked at Facebook since.

Then I posted an auto response to my email that said I was gonna be “off the grid” for a few days – “off the grid” being defined these days as “no signal” on my mobile devices.  There was still plenty of electricity at our destination – and WiFi in a lot of locations – but I made a conscious and deliberate decision to be “unplugged” for a few days.

As we were driving down to the island – about 11-1/2 hours with stops along the way – I went a step further in my digital rehab:  I removed the Facebook apps from my iPhone and iPad.

Wednesday night, once Ann and I had settled into our accommodations (provided by AirBnB, naturally…), I opened my e-mail one more time, cleared the inbox as well as I could and closed the application.  I haven’t checked e-mail since.   I think this is the longest I’ve gone without looking at email in about 10 years. Probably longer.

Nor have I been on Facebook.  Or Twitter (which I don’t use nearly as much as Facebook anyway). Or LinkedIn or Pinterest.  And I can’t really say now that I miss any of it.

I don’t miss the deluge of digital narcissism – including my own – or the constant comparison of my virtual existence to that of my friends and colleagues.

In the absence of these distractions, what I have discovered is a measure of continuity in my own thought processes that is both strange and exhilarating.  I am now in the midst of a giant leap in the recovery of my own space and time.

And I might owe it all to kayaking…

* * *

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Enough About Me…

Clark Buckner, New Media Strategist

Clark Buckner, New Media Strategist

…what do you think of me?

Back in May, 2014 I had occasion to sit down and chat with Clark Buckner from TechnologyAdvice.com (they provide coverage content on medical billing solutions, cloud-based platforms, software solutions and much more; also be sure to also check out their Tech Conference Calendar).

So here’s 8 minutes of me regaling Clark with stories about…. me.

The occasion was the Wordcamp (WordPress) conference last spring here in Nashville.  We got to talking and I started to tell Clark him a bit of my background and what all I’ve been doing for the past two decades since I arrived in Nashville.  Apart from being seen at at lot of these tech and start-up events with my camera, I tend to travel a bit under the radar and incognito…. so I suspect Clark was a bit surprised at some of the stories.  And I didn’t even get to the part about how “I used to be Jimmy Buffett...” (long before I got to Nashville).

Sound Like Anybody You Know?

Notes from a productive Sunday:

A few minutes ago, I posted this to my Facebook:

So I’m going through some notes and I find one from Sal Cincotta that says ‘My clients are not looking for a photographer. They’re looking for an artist.” Mantra for the week? Check.

And then this showed up:

creativepeople

I think I’m detecting a trend here.  If not a downright theme for the coming week…

Celebrating 20 Years Part 2: “What’s The Internet?”

I Was A “Start up” Before “Start ups” Were Cool.

(cont’d from Part I)

I took my sweet time driving across the southern states (it was winter, after all, a concept largely foreign to my experience over the previous 20 years…).  I did spend two nights in Dallas, where I made a pilgrimage to Dealey Plaza and visited the recently opened “6th Floor Museum” in the old Texas School Book Depository building where Lee Harvey Oswald supposedly lay in wait for the Kennedy motorcade.  After that there wasn’t a whole lot I wanted to do in Dallas* so I headed east, and, finally, north.

It's not I-40, but you get the idea...

It’s not I-40, but you get the idea.

Speaking of winter: I arrived in Tennessee just as the state was recovering from a devastating ice storm.  I spent a night with my new step-family in Memphis; they had been without power for two days, but conveniently their electricity came back on while I was there.

The next morning I made a pilgrimage to Graceland, where I discovered that there isn’t any amount of money that can buy good taste.

Then I headed up I-40 from Memphis to Nashville, making note along the way of all the trees that were bent over the edge of the roadway under the weight of the ice that had frozen onto their limbs and branches just a couple of days earlier.

Jerome – my friend from GIT in LA –  had offered me a place to stay when I arrived.  I found his apartment complex off Edmondson Pike, south of the center of the city, and took up residence there for about a week, living literally out of a closet where Jerome had stored a roll-out bed.  A week later (or was it two?) Jerome and the woman he’d been dating (and eventually married, last I heard…) helped me find a room in a lovely house in Brentwood with a kindly lady whose husband had recently pass away.  For a very nominal rent, she gave me the master bedroom, and the use of another room at the end of the hall where I could finally set up my computer.

* * * *

My computer at the time was a “state of the art” PC (manufacturer’s name long since forgotten) with an “80386” processor – one of the first machines that was capable of any kind of multi-tasking – running the revolutionary-at-the-time Windows 3.1.

The "state of the art" ca. 1995

The “state of the art” ca. 1995

By the time I got to Nashville, I’d been using computers and for 15 years;  I’d started using a a computer for word processing way back in 1979, and while I had the boat business in Hawaii I’d used it for accounting and payroll. When things started getting all “graphical” in the mid-80s, I did a little bit of design with one of the first desktop publishing programs, something called Aldus Pagemaker.

And I’d been online almost as long as I’d had a computer, starting at 300 baud with an online service called The Source, which was later acquired by a service called Compuserve, which I used  mostly for e-mail and computer-related support.  Back in LA I had spent a fair amount of time on something called a “BBS” (Bulletin Board Service) that got me into all kinds of trouble (see Part I: Marriage: Destruction Of…).

Conveniently, my arrival in Nashville  also coincided with the time when the Internet as we now know it was just bubbling into public consciousness.  It had been around for at least a decade before that, but until then had been the exclusive province of the military and educational institutions. I had first discovered this “network of networks” late in 1993, about the time I started thinking about the move to Nashville.  At the time, the Internet was mostly text-based listerves and user groups.  With the advent of Mosaic – the first web browser – in 1993, the  Internet began its metamorphosis into the hyper-linked, graphical universe we are now immersed in.

So I got my computer set up in Nashville and started “surfing” the Internet – which put in place the first of two elements that would converge a year later into what would turn out to be the reason I’d come to Nashville.

* * * *

The second element evolved over the course of my first year in The Music City, in the form of a growing awareness of the vast pool of unrecognized talent that subsists just beneath the thin crust of the mainstream commercial music industry.

I started spending a fair amount of time at clubs like The Bluebird, the Commodore Lounge, and a place on Nolensville Road I can’t remember the name of that is now a Mexican restaurant.  In Nashville, it seemed, every coffee house, restaurant and Mapco Express store hosted a “writer’s night.”

Alan Rowoth, the Godfather of all that is "Folk" on the web...

Alan Rowoth, the Godfather of all that is “Folk” on the web…

At the same time I had started subscribing to a listserve called simply “Folk Music” – hosted by a New Yorker named Alan Rowoth – that exchanged dozens of messages every day from all over the world about otherwise largely undiscovered talents.

In these small venues, and through the Folk Music list, I started to discover brilliant, entertaining, heart-touching performing singer/songwriters like Tom Kimmel (Angels), Michael Lille (Life On the Run), Jana Stanfield (I’m Not Lost, I’m Exploring), Buddy Mondlock (The Kid) and countless others who lived not only in Nashville, but all over the country… and the world. I discovered people like  Don Conoscenti, Pierce Pettis and Tom Prasada-Rao, Barbara Kessler and Cheryl Wheeler – all of whom worked a nationwide circuit of small clubs and coffee houses.

“This life as a modern folk musician…” I remember Barbara Kessler saying in the midst of a round at The Bluebird, “…it’s mostly driving…”

But I truly hit the motherlode when I learned about a weekly event called “The 6 Chair Pickin’ Party.”  Almost every Wednesday night, a fuzzy bear of a man named Mike Williams and his wife Kathy would welcome five songwriters to sit in a circle in their living room.  Atop a hill in West Meade Mike with his baritone 12-string guitar and these unheralded talents would swap songs and tall tales for several hours.  It was truly “the church of the Holy Song Circle” – where some of the finest songwriters on the planet would “gather and pray… for cuts” (as I described it myself in one of the few songs I’ve ever written myself…)

In these intimate confines I began to make the acquaintance of some of these people.

This was a community of touring modern day troubadours whose lives were empowered in no small part by the relative affordability of CD manufacturing and the wide availability of home recording. By the mid 1990s, the music business was undergoing an epochal transformation – and didn’t even know it yet.

By the winter of 1995, I had these two things bubbling around in my brain:  The first was the advent of the World Wide Web; the second was this seething cauldron of under-discovered talent that I was listening to in quiet venues all over Nashville.

On some gut level, I began to suspect that there was a business opportunity in there somewhere.

  * * * *

Those nights I wast not hanging out at the clubs, I was up until the wee hours “surfing” around on this new world wide web thing.

One night – probably in February of 1995 – I stumbled across a website for a company called “Rainy Day Records.”   The site described itself as the online home of a mom & pop record store based in Atlanta, adding “we use our record store and this website to help promote independent recording artists from the Atlanta area….”

That’s when the light went on: If it made any sense to operate a website like that out of Atlanta, then it made a world of sense to start one in Nashville.

A few nights later, I’d written a one-page prospectus describing the ‘National Online Music Alliance” and took it with me to my regular Wednesday night songwriter circle.  During the break, I asked a few of the acquaintances I’d made, “What would you think if I tried to sell some of your CDs on the Internet?

Several of the people I asked replied blankly, “What’s ‘the Internet’?”

Tom Kimmel

Tom Kimmel

But Tom Kimmel knew what the Internet was.  I’d met Tom at the Bluebird several months earlier.  After hearing him play a song about being lifted up by “Angels,” I introduced myself and asked how I could get a recording of that particular song.  It was not available yet on CD,  but Tom offered to send me a cassette of the demo, from which I taught myself to play the song.  Tom also turned out to be computer savvy enough that we struck up a correspondence via Compuserve.

Tom knew what the Internet was in part because he’d just come of a circuit on the east coast called “Internet Quartets” – in-the-round presentations that were organized by  Alan Rowoth, the host of the aforementioned Folk Music listserv.

So when I asked Tom, “what would you think if I tried to sell some of your CDs on the Internet,” Tom’s reply wasn’t “What’s the Internet?”  Tom’s reply was “I’ve been thinking I need a Home Page…” and in that moment a partnership was born.

mc-bw2

Michael Camp

A week later Tom was telling me about another fellow he wanted me to meet. Michael Camp knew his way around computers, too, Tom told me, and was also a songwriter and performer, and was perhaps interested in joining forces in whatever it was we were starting to do.  So we arranged a three-way conference call – still an exotic thing to do in the mid 1990s – and I remember Michael introducing himself…. and suddenly it dawned on me I’d heard him play a song as a “pilgrim” at one of Mike William’s pickin’ parties.

“I know you!” I said over the phone. “You’re the clown In the middle!”  – a reference to Michael’s song Brothers –  about being a middle child, an accident of birth that we have in common.  He laughed, and just like that the third leg of the stool was in place.

Later that week, Tom and Michael each wrote me a check for $250  so that we could open a bank account.  And I remember thinking, “wow, these guys really believe in this idea…”  Nobody had ever offered me real money for an idea before…

* * * *

It’s interesting to look back on all this from the perspective of almost 20 years later. We didn’t think of it in such terms at the time, but it’s arguable now that Tom, Michael and I were digging one of the first plowshares into a fertile new field.

In the decades since, the Internet has become a fundamental pillar of the global economy, and Nashville in particular has done an exemplary job of fostering an “entrepreneurial ecosystem” that has drawn an exciting array of talent to Middle Tennessee.

But there was no support system in Nashville – or anywhere, really – for a “music-tech start up” in 1995.  There was no pool of ‘mentors’  offering sage advice and counsel like there are today.  We didn’t put together a Powerpoint ‘deck’ outlining a set of prescribed highlights to pitch investors.  There was no “investable story.” The only thing we pitched in was a few hundred of our own dollars and an intriguing idea.  We rolled up our sleeves and went to work.  We didn’t go looking for investors. We started right out selling our service to vendors and customers.

At the time this is beginning to unfold, I had a temp job running computer charts for HCA, the big hospital chain based in Nashville.  And I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t have time for a job now… I have work to do…”

The first order of business was figuring out how to create a website.  Michael and I found a book  called Teach Yourself Web Publishing In A Week with HTML (Amazon) and started teaching ourselves how to cobble web pages together. It’s almost laughable now to look back on what was “state of the art” in 1995.  Blinking graphics that seem hideous now were still cool…

We were all comfortable with the name “National Online Music Alliance” for the business. Being left-leaning, quasi-socialist types we were probably drawn toward the idea of an “alliance” – a notion that was probably planted in my head by (stolen from?)  the organization called “Folk Alliance” which convenes an annual gathering of the community we were drawing on and hoping to contribute to.

As we learned how the web works, we knew that we would need a domain – a “dot-com” – on which to build the website.

One night in May of 1995, I visited the website for Network Solutions, which at the time was the primary source for securing domain names.  I did a search for the acronym based on the name – “NOMA-dot-com” – and waited for the search results.

Remember "Bubble Lights"

Remember “Bubble Lights”

You can perhaps imagine my dismay when the search results returned with the news that the domain “NOMA-dot-com” was already registered.  It belonged to an ornamental lighting company in Canada that made mostly Christmas tree lights – most notably the “bubble lights” that I remember so well from the Christmas trees of my childhood in the 1950s and 60s (yes, we were Jewish, it’s a long story, don’t ask…I”m trying to stay focused here!).

“Oh jeez,” I thought, “what on earth will we do since that domain is taken?”

And then, I swear, the heavens opened and a chorus of angels sang, “try ‘SONGS-dot-com.”

Ooh.  I really liked that idea. Fingers shaking, I typed that domain into a search field, and then waited nervously as the result trickled back at the blisteringly slow pace of 2400-baud.

The name was available.  What would eventually become one of the most enviable five-letter domains on the whole Internet was available – in the spring of 1995 – for a whole $35.

I grabbed it.

Shortly therafter Michael and I started building web pages.  But neither of us had enough computer skills to create a secure shopping cart, so we had to hire a programmer from Vanderbilt to create a script so that we actually could sell CDs from the website.  I don’t remember his name now but I do remember that that’s where most of our $750 seed money went.

One of the first "NOMA" logos, ca. 1996.

The first “NOMA” logo. The site offered “Local Music for a Global Audience.”

In June of 1995, The National Online Music Alliance went online with four independent recording artists:  Tanya Savory (the very first to say “yes”), Joni Bishop, Jana Stanfield, and Buddy Mondlock – all singer/songwriters I’d met at Mike Williams’ house.

We’d no sooner launched the site than we had our first sale for one of Buddy’s CDs.

And until somebody tells me otherwise, I’m pretty sure that was the first time music from Nashville was sold directly over the Internet.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Coming next: Part 3: (Update March 28 2016: Part 3? Hasn’t been posted yet.  Maybe one of these days…)

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

*Ironically, a few years later I met and married a woman whose family lived in Dallas, so I wound up returning there countless times.  I never did find anything to do in Dallas.  One time I complained, “there’s nothing to do in Dallas!” to which my new wife replied, “sure there is.”  “Like what?” I asked.  “Well… you can go to Fort Worth….”