Rendered Fat Content


Thomas Lord Busby: Billy Waters, a one-legged busker.
Colored engraving from Costumes of the Lower Orders in Paris (1820)

"I build my castle upon shifting sands."

The steps I follow to successfully publish one of my daily stories have multiplied since I started writing this Publishing series. What previously seemed simple became complicated, though my intentions never considered creating anything convoluted. We all understand that this sort of outcome happens, though we remain largely baffled at how an urge to simplify produces complications. The expansion comes in insignificant increments, so-called inch-pebbles, rather than by milestones. An embellishment might require much more work yet produce an effect that seems damned well worth what initially seemed like a small additional effort. Multiply that tweak by twelve or even by five, and the resulting steps become challenging to hold in one's head yet remain too fresh to be easily turned into a checklist.

At some point, what starts as an inspired improvisation becomes an imperative, no longer mere embellishment but an integral part of every performance, not to be omitted.
A rat's nest of cables results, with plugs and dust bunnies complicating ever untangling. The specific steps remain indistinct enough to evade discretely documenting. One comes to insist that they navigate by superior intuition, yet catch themselves missing steps and having to backtrack, sometimes producing more embarrassment than entertainment. Beginning fresh each morning, I anticipate no complications, for I've apparently forgotten all the recent changes I've insisted upon making for improvement. The memory returns as I produce the story, and my background thinking gets distracted, anticipating what I'll forget this morning. I'll publish something without its antecedents present, another in a lengthening line of busted links needing fixing.

I am proving to be a surprisingly resourceful mechanic. My blog has been fussy, and the tech support has remained silent for almost a fortnight. I limp around the intermittent service interruptions, wondering if a link will stay unbroken for long. I'm publishing parallel products, thinking that I might one day have to abandon Facebook as it, too, becomes increasingly erratic and unreasonable. Who knows what any of those platform managers are thinking? Their intentions seem focused far away from the service I depend upon them to produce. Once an innovation, they now represent a more conservative service, with features frequently disappearing without notice or explanation. There are no secure options.

I understand that nobody's ever figured out how to document Choreography, though there's a notation; it requires a tremendous amount of interpretation. Dance routines depend upon repetition on top of the originating inspiration. Each iteration might subtly change the evolving expectation. Twenty perfectly synchronized dancers remain a miracle, essentially unexplainable by normal means. So, it seems, my Publishing. ComplicatedChoreography only rarely remains replicable for long. It seeks ever-greater simplicity and can only maintain greater complexity for a short time. Reviving a Broadway musical might take longer than producing the original. Memories fail, and fresh inspiration complicates the reincarnating. I expect my Publishing to settle into a more straightforward form as I gain experience performing. I know it will only stand short term in its present complicated form. Facebook could disappear tomorrow. I build my castle upon shifting sands. But then, who doesn't?

©2023 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

blog comments powered by Disqus

Made in RapidWeaver