I might have solved my homepage-writing problem a different way: Gruber’s Markdown Web Dingus saved as a Fluid app on my Mac. Write my updates there, copy the generated HTML, paste into the file on the server.
I’m only even looking at Blot because I was looking for ways to make updating my homepage easier, meaning I wanted to just write in markdown, but all the static-site generators just seem like fucking headaches. But, even if Blot could do what I need, I’d lose my
I am trying to understand some things about Blot that I don’t think I can understand without using it but there’s no trial period. (This is part of my likely eventual draw down from most of the internet.)
Here’s what the web needs — or my web, anyway: a service providing both hosted and self-hosted versions of an easily-deployable non-blog website with simple, configurable pages (about, now, et cetera), where changes to the site are published via RSS feed. When I say “easily-deployable” I mean keep your current slate of static-site generators to yourself. When I say “non-blog website” I mean keep your about.me and your Carrd sites to yourself (although, technically, any such service could institute what I’m talking about). Then anyone I’d care to know what they’re up to would have to maintain such a page that I can subscribe to in my feed reader, and I would just get off of social media altogether. I’m fucking tired of feeds. There’s just no other way for me to know what’s up in people’s lives. Just give me distributed profile pages with page-update notifications via RSS.
Reading through Pratik’s jottings about Goodreads made me realize that the biggest obstacle to me switching to any alternative book-tracking site (existing or forthcoming) is that while I don’t really make use of the social aspects (I don’t have Goodreads friends), I do use it to follow authors so that I’m alerted when they have new books coming out. Any potential Goodreads substitute would need to replicate that feature, or figure its way to something analogous, to entice me into switching. I’d love to take one more step away from large ecosystems like Amazon, but alternatives need to think hard not just about avoiding the bad things about the attention economies of scale such ecosystems offer but about finding substitutes for the good things they offer.
Just signed up for the Literal waiting list. I’m down for a minimalist book-tracking site that runs on recommendations from trusted people rather than algorithms, and that intends to support local bookstores.. Found it via this Micro.blog thread. You can browse a founder’s profile to get a sense of its current state. It looks like you can import your Goodreads data and pick up where you left off, too.
Medium is testing themes, and Andy Baio quips that “they’re slowly turning into Blogspot”. It does seem to look like a sort of Blogspot/Tumblr hybrid without the reblogs. What caught my attention, though, was the bit about “fictionless reading”.
Most digital media experiences are full of friction: you are presented with an array of headlines and have to constantly decide, “Do I care enough to click?”
As a result, we spend much of our time online skimming, evaluating, and browsing, often ending up more overwhelmed than enlightened. In comparison, experiences like magazines, blogs, or feed-based social apps draw you into content immediately.
This gets the friction problem almost entirely wrong.
Reading and writing on the web is in need of more friction, not less. Experiences should encourage you to linger, or re-read, or ponder; or, perhaps, comment. Experiences should not encourage you just to speed right on ahead to the next thing.
I’ve debated back and forth on whether or not to include the next and previous links on my blog posts because I genuinely can’t decide if even they are too little friction.
Fucking ass Facebook is coming for your 90s web nostalgia.
Matthew Bogart touches on differences in getting to know people on bulletin boards versus doing the same on Twitter, and I think that part of the obstacle is that “a community like Twitter” is a phrase that makes no sense. Twitter isn’t a community, although it likely manages to contain various communities which form despite the platform’s actual disinterest in community. The more I think about it, I believe that social media platforms exist at a scale that’s perhaps inherently hostile to hosting community. One of the things that happened in the earlier era of social networking is that communities formed in groups or chats, virtual places you had to reach out to, or for; in the current era of social media it’s all about that single, solitary jumble of a feed. Fundamentally, I don’t think the feed as an organizing principle is compatible with community.
Were I to ask for one thing from Flickr, it would be the ability to post photos grouped together, but not by making a set. Rather, some fashion of gallery post; sometimes you deliberately want people to view a given photo specifically in the context of other photos.
After aborting one attempt months back, I’m again exploring making a return to using Flickr. (My old, original account still exists; they don’t allow URL changes, so I’ve no interest simply in resurrecting it.) What’s irritating me, though, is the feature inconsistencies between the iOS app and the website. For instance, the iOS app uses Foursquare for its location search, but then that mapping data appears nowhere on the website, whose location and mapping search does not use Foursquare and is missing many locations as prominent as the Oregon Zoo. Meanwhile, in the app I can only add a title to a photo, but not a description; on the website I can add either, both, or neither. I feel like Flickr is treated by whomever owns it like it’s some sort of bastard stepchild they’ve been saddled with and for whom they don’t want to have to put in too much effort despite having spent money to obtain it in the first place. Which always sort of prompts me to wonder: why should the rest of us?
It never will not be weird to me that people feel the need to make up new names for old things. Newsletters are not blogletters just because services like Substack have come along; they are newsletters with a fancy archive. It’s also not true that “what most newsletters of this type have inherited from blogs is tone of voice”. Newsletters with a personality and a perspective have existed for a very long time and pre-date blogs. Back in the early days of blogging and even before, I can think of two just off the top of my head that I subscribed to: Red Rock Eater News Service (mentioned here before) and Entropy Gradient Reversals. Most such newsletters had an online archive of one sort or another, although in the early days it might have been accessed via FTP or gopher. EGR ran off of Topica, and so had an easily-used web archive. What something like Substack does is model its lists’ archive pages on blogging’s traditional reverse-chronological format; that doesn’t magically create a new thing, per se. Nor is sending out your blog via email once a day a new thing; blogs as a form often have incorporated “daily digest” emails for quite a long time. Arguably the sort of thing Dave Winer has been doing lately has more claim to some fancy newish term, as what he does arguably could be described as writing his daily newsletter in public, viewing each day as a discrete entity that relates to itself as it goes. My admittedly-biased gut feels like this is what happens when content marketers discover a thing that already existed: they need to rebrand it in order to claim it, because their job and their mentality is to generate hype. It’s just newsletters. They literally pre-date the web, so you can’t hardly suddenly call them weblogs.
Somewhere in Gretchen McCulloch’s recent posts or newsletters was this Wired piece from last year I’d never seen about how at Archive of Our Own they’ve found a middle-ground between free-form and top-down tagging that’s actually much more functional and much more usable.
On AO3, users can put in whatever tags they want. (Autocomplete is there to help, but they don’t have to use it.) Then behind the scenes, human volunteers look up any new tags that no one else has used before and match them with any applicable existing tags, a process known as tag wrangling. Wrangling means that you don’t need to know whether the most popular tag for your new fanfic featuring Sherlock Holmes and John Watson is Johnlock or Sherwatson or John/Sherlock or Sherlock/John or Holmes/Watson or anything else. And you definitely don’t need to tag your fic with all of them just in case. Instead, you pick whichever one you like, the tag wranglers do their work behind the scenes, and readers looking for any of these synonyms will still be able to find you.
AO3’s trick is that it involves humans by design—around 350 volunteer tag wranglers in 2019, up from 160 people in 2012—who each spend a few hours a week deciding whether new tags should be treated as synonyms or subsets of existing tags, or simply left alone. AO3’s Tag Wrangling Chairs estimate that the group is on track to wrangle about 2.7 million never-before-used tags in 2019, up from 2.4 million in 2018.
Although this isn’t about content moderation as you’d think about it in the context, say, of social media, I do think there’s a lesson to be carried over and it’s the same damned lesson community managers teach over and over: programmatic rigidity from above doesn’t work, and free-for-all anarchy doesn’t work. You need actual people in the middle, wrangling.