This is not Clickbait

The Simpler Times of Appreciating Ordinary Joys ( Justifying my Podcast )

The new currency is noise -

And to be heard, in a loud and overcrowded media world, we need to drum up some commotion.

Whip up a bit of controversy.

Every bit of speech, every aspect of content, needs to be maxed out.

Volume up at 100%.

And it never ends.

There’s a kind of content burnout that comes; an apathy, a cynicism, an exhaustion.

We plug our ears, we embrace a kind of deafness.

It’s the only way to not be crushed under the yelling, the screaming, the desperate need to been.

The clamour to be followed, liked, adored.

And in the midst of all this noise, I add my voice.

And to the top of this heap of content, I add a YouTube channel.

The irony is palpable.

“But I’m Not Like Other Girls…”

Late last week I was driving home with Ransom, back from the Greenway - a small park by a river - and he was asking for, “More”.

And then he’d say, “Bob.”

What he wanted to listen to was Shelter From the Storm - his favourite song.

So I put in on, the aux cord connected to my phone.

And he starts nodding his head, clapping, and babbling - and I’m singing along, and we smile at each other through the mirror that sits over his car seat.

After that song, some podcast I had started cut in - and I saw on Ransom’s face what I felt inside - annoyed.

“More,” he says.

And I change the song to Tangled Up In Blue, and he resumes his nodding and clapping.

My window is rolled down, and I can see my forearm in the side mirror, as I check to change lanes. And I’m thinking about how exhausted I am with content.

With consuming.

With the constant need to ingest.

And I’m thinking that so much of what makes up our consumption is disordered.

We fit into these categories, I’m thinking, as I slow to a stop at a red, Bob singing about music in the cafes at night, singing about revolution in the air.

We were made to think, to engage, to process - but so often we settle for less.

We settle, sometimes, for no thinking at all. Our minds atrophy, our hearts wither, a kind of anorexia of the soul.

Sometimes we’re content bulimics, we take in whatever we can, and then regurgitate it, spit it all up, without ever metabolizing it.

Sometimes, most times, I’m thinking, as the traffic begins its slow acceleration under the green light, we’re gluttons.

We take in. More and more.

Books. Videos. Podcasts. Interviews.

And we don’t do anything with it.

So it sits heavy on us, rounds us out, dulls us, weighs us down.

And then it’s more and more - trying to keep up with it all - know it all, comment on it all.

And then sometimes, we don’t settle.

Sometimes we digest, we metabolize, we use the content as energy to produce and create and move.

The song ends, and Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door, comes on next - and I’m comparing my stupid little podcast¹ to Bob Dylan’s greatest hits.

Comparing the interview I’ve done to all the greatest I’ve ever listened to.

And I’m sounding out the Grinch, while he stands atop his twisted mountain, looking down on Whoville, bellyaching about all the noise.

Every one has a podcast, and they’re all pretending to be something new, something special, something, they promise, that will change your life.

And I’m thinking, as I turn down the back alley to the parking lot behind our apartment building, that mine is nothing special.

Mine is just like all the rest.

And I think that’s what makes it important.

Ordinary Conversations For Ordinary People

Maybe the one thing that distinguishes me is that I’m not selling you something - not telling you it’ll be the secret cure-all to all your problems.

I have no subscription for extra access.

I have no product to peddle.

That’s not my lane, especially these days.

For a long time I’ve been wanting to have conversations with people that I’ve connected with through Sword and Pencil - to hear their thoughts and ideas on all kinds of things going on in the modern world.

And if, in some small way, these conversations, can be beneficial to anyone else - well, then maybe it’s worth it.

New Game

Ransom and I are walking the lane up to our back door; he’s got a Batman toy in his hand, and we’re taking the steps at his pace.

There was a simpler time.

A time when not everything had to be marketed, commodified, sold, and profited on.

A time when our creative hobbies were for fun, not side hustles to make us money.

That simpler time, when no one knew what the gig-economy was, when post metrics didn’t matter, when monetization and ad revenue was irrelevant.

I watched Ransom with his toy, running down the hall, about to knock on our door, so Ais will let him in. And I’m thinking that all he cares about is joy.

He’s not in this for clout or influence, he’s not out to make a name for himself, he’s not trying to network or schmooze or make deals.

He is after joy, and he’s relentlessly in the moment.

And I think that’s why I am doing this, this little podcast.

And I think that’s why it has this retro theme -

Because I like it, because it’s simple, because when it’s all said and done, I don’t really care about all the numbers and deals -

I just wanna have some fun.

Anyways.

This was mostly me justifying it to myself -

It’s not a sales pitch.

It’s not even an invitation.

It’s just an explanation.

You can check it out here, if you want.

1. I don’t know if that’s what it actually is ha -