Facebook sucks — do you have a newsletter?

Facebook seems to have reached some sort of tipping-point.

Maybe not this bad. But still...

I don't think there's any need for me to go over the scary headlines about the evil unleashed on this fair planet by the blue-and-white behemoth — heritage media claims of FB's villainy and calumny strike me as just a tad overblown. My beef with Zuckerberg is personal. The worst shift in Facebook isn't just that it's become a platform strictly for “The Olds,” but that we Olds have become the shrill, reactionary nitwits we once thought the exclusive domain of extreme youth. You made it possible, Zuck — well done!

And speaking as someone who can appreciate an economical line of code — who are the engineers who came up with the Facebook feed algorithm? These people have somehow zeroed in on delivering me only the stuff I have absolutely no interest in — what a rare, miraculous feat!

I miss email.

Oh, sure — we still have it. But our exchanges on it have become truncated and perfunctory — inadequate, really. The digital revolution seems to make every human interaction inadequate.

Remember the early days of email? It was like opening a letter you'd received in your mailbox, only better.

No, seriously — back in the days of pen and paper, receiving a good letter might inspire you to respond in kind. But the odds were against it. You had to find your own pen and paper. Then you had to sit at a table and think. And write.

Email was better. You had the letter right there in front of you, provoking all manner of thought and emotion. And you didn't have an excuse to not respond — while you were reading, the means to respond was physically at your fingertips. Your fingers might never fly as quickly as your thoughts, but they often came close. Revisionist Mennonite history, beach party movies, gloriously awful Christmas music, erotic kung-fu fan-fic generated by the Sunday funnies — anything could trigger a voluminous epistolary exchange that might run for days or weeks at a time.

Our species never got closer to a true meeting of two or more minds than during the early days of email.

There's no going back, of course — the promise of email has been eviscerated by the anxiety of the present. As has the initial promise of Facebook.

Beloved Facebook peeps — I apologize. You've been posting some amazing links, beautiful pictures, moving stories. I know I haven't been hitting “Like” nearly as often as I should. But the truth is if I have to search for it — if it doesn't show up in my feed, because Zuck's algorithm doesn't think it's worth his time — I'm not gonna look at it. Please forgive me.

And I know that is just as true for you also.

I want to see pictures of your family, the cover of the book you're reading during vacation, the band that's got you pumped. It'd be great if I could get a quick update on what you're doing — doesn't need to be more than a word or four (“Getting married! So exciting!” (with accompanying picture, of course)). Doesn't have to be more than once a week, or even once a month — unless you're keen to do more, in which case go for it.

If only there was an alternative to Facebook.

Oh, but there is — the newsletter.

I've subscribed to dozens of newsletters over the years — I've probably unsubscribed from a few dozen also. But if the tone is engaging (read: “personal”) and there exists at least the possibility, if not the probability, of surprise, then I want that newsletter in my email box.

For my virtual money, nobody does this better than Warren Ellis.

When it comes to pro writing, the guy is killer prolific — I could never hope to keep up with his output, and usually resign myself to sampling the occasional finished comic (James Bond: Vargr was a welcome palliative to the last three movies, and it's lovely that Ellis' early masterpiece Ultimate Galactus (which has subsequently gone on to influence everything) is widely available thanks to the webz).

But I look forward to his Sunday evening newsletter with the same anticipation I had as a child waiting for Hymn Sing to end so The Wonderful World of Disney could begin.

Not sure why, exactly. Ellis chatters about stuff I can only dimly relate to. But he's pleasant about it. He's like a Mr. Rogers for the weird — and I want to be his neighbor.

Although that business about "good fences" probably applies.

Anyhoo, his is the direction I hope to take this blog, at least for the time being. Wind seems to have left my writerly sails — not entirely (obviously) but certainly quite significantly. I shall let them luff whilst I (hopefully) attend to the personal work necessary. I'm still committed to weekly updates, but they might be pictures of a book off my shelf, or a CD I'm currently keen on, with maybe one or two links that have me cogitating.

In the meantime, give some thought to your own newsletter. Then let me know when you take the plunge.

Facebook sucks. We've got the means to do better — so ... why not?