about the internet revolution
Some years ago if I had gone up to your man in the street and told him, “You don’t need an ereader if you have a tablet…” he would have stared at me. “Wha’cha mean, mate?” he might have asked. That’s how quickly the revolution has come and swept away a big part of the old world I lived in as a kid. No computers and mainly black and white photos. When I go to parties and old songs are played I think I can be understood for reminiscing on enormous change and even going so far as to agree with Yeats’ “A terrible beauty is born.” But what is this “terrible beauty”?
For me it is trying to explain to a dear friend how to buy my ebook and how to buy my paperback book. Both come from the same provider Amazon. Both can be googled on Amazon/Books but of course you can’t buy unless you are a member, and to join the club requires another procedure. I am not talking rocket-science as the cliché might put it but I am talking internet, and the more I talk it the more I realise it is indeed a revolution and we are all revolutionised.
These thoughts are mundane. No one talks on train-journeys anymore. They text, work and play. People in the street ignore crime-warnings and walk along oblivious to the guy coming up behind them. Why? Mobile phone takes priority. Speeding the motorways of the world we are advised that an sm is less important than a life. Ours. It goes on and on.
Only yesterday I tried for the umpteenth time to set up an rss feed to my blogsites that don’t provide rss. I can’t get my head round it but seem to have understood that some sites are stubborn resisters and you need the help of other sites or cookies or whatever to implement the procedure for setting up a feed.
I’m just lost, and so when this morning I set about writing in simple English how to buy my ebook and how to buy my paperback version, I ruefully reflected on what I am ruefully writing. The internet revolution is a pain in the arse for dunderheads & I’m one of them. I learn slowly. I don’t understand. I forget. If I don’t practise I forget even faster. Sites are similar but not the same. I go under with brain fatigue. I get exhausted. I get tired. When I try to set it down in clear, simple English, that’s clear, simple instructing, I realise just how technical it all is.
Only yesterday I said that independent publishing was a mixed blessing because there are millions out there and how do you sort out what you like from what you don’t, let alone qualitative writing from quantitative? Of course, it’s not as bleak as I’m perhaps suggesting but complexity is not going to go away, and how can you see the wood for the trees? That’s it in a nutshell. There’s the rub! I’ve used three idioms which themselves need explaining in an EFL or ESL class. Language itself is fraught. Everything has its own jargon.
I’m feeling fed up but I just can’t side with the guys I meet my age who don’t know a tablet from an iphone. It’s a sure way of consigning yourself to the old-fashioned, the fuddy-duddy and the lost when you claim it’s all a load of bollocks, the good, old ways and days were better, and the interface on an iphone is too small for old eyes to manage but, of course, it is and don’t rabbit on to me about aggrandising. If a screen is 3cm x 2cm, I can aggrandise till I’m blue in the fisog but my tired eyes just won’t make out the digits and the letters.
“Buy a bigger appliance, mate!!!”
“OK, and thanks for the advice!!! Now bugger off!!!”