Canned Dragons

Despite seemingly being designed by a corporation to be mostly inoffensive, sometimes to the point of banality or worse, Coldplay launched into the world consciousness hot, with “Don’t Panic,” the song in the pole position on their debut album Parachutes. Though I feel more generosity towards Chris Martin and crew, some believe “Don’t Panic” is the band’s only good song. Whatever the case, the track was certainly a winning way for Coldplay to announce their arrival on the scene.¹

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Every time I finish a novel in which I have invested a lot of time and emotion, I feel a bit unmoored. What other worlds are out there now that this one is gone? It’s like the characters in that world died and will be grieved. Some even after entering a new story.

After I wrapped up reading Demon Copperhead last weekend, I had these feelings. I almost shed tears at the end of the book. There are no novels piling up in a stack for me to read, so I was bereft. I was almost present in Lee County, that little corner of Appalachia where most of the book takes place, for some period. My own trip to Appalachia recently only reinforced that feeling.

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Not many people profess a love of advertisements on the internet. Among people I follow, particularly on the indie web, few really like Instagram, either. There’s a distaste for big web companies like Meta who make their money on data harvesting and targeted ads.

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One of the few newsletters I pay to subscribe to is Spruce Island from Orthodox Christian writer Michael Warren Davis. Davis is packing it in after a send-off entitled “Death to Substack.” Davis minces no words in his antipathy towards the platform. As someone who writes on matters of faith, he’s able to easily target the content that dominates that niche on Substack.

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A few days ago, I received a plea in my usual email from the media outlet Tangle.

The last six months have been a difficult time for media outlets. Overwhelmed by the news, many readers and listeners are tuning out. Those who are staying up to date are increasingly relying on artificial intelligence round-ups to get their news, which has caused website traffic to fall.

I feel bad about the situation that Isaac Saul, who founded Tangle, and his crew find themselves in. They have a publication that does a wonderful job balancing perspectives on the news of the day. They are trustworthy and thorough. Yet, I find myself deciding again and again not to upgrade to a paid subscription when I consider the option.

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Zachary Brown writes for the Verge about a new game/utililty from Hank Green. The premise of the Focus Friend app is sort of like an updated Tamagotchi for phone addicts. You are the virtual caretaker of a character like Billy Bean King, a bean who can only work to upgrade its environment and wardrobe (it knits) if you put down your phone. As it turns out, helping furnish a virtual bean’s lo-fi room is exactly what I needed.

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In honor of Tops’ new album Bury The Key being released yesterday, I’m featuring one of the tracks, “Falling On My Sword,” as the Saturday Night Video this week. 

“Falling On My Sword” is my favorite among the early singles from this LP and probably the one that most closely matches the 70’s prog rock-inspired cover art. It’s a bit of a left turn for Tops. Based on their previous work, you would think anything born of a seventies influence would be more in line with late-decade disco (and the remainder of the album features some of that).

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