Good morning, all. It’s Thursday, so—as per usual—it’s time for another weekly blog post. Here we go!
I’ve had a mildly underproductive editing week, because last Friday, Saturday, and then this Monday, I got wrapped up in completing my latest song, Come Back Again. If you’re interested, you can listen to it on YouTube, here on my website, or on my Facebook page. It’s also posted in audio-only format on Iterations of Zero. If anyone wants, I could send you an mp3 copy; that seems vanishingly unlikely, though. The only people who seem to listen to my songs are immediate family members and similarly unfortunate, obligated people. I do think the song is surprisingly decent, considering I did it using only two electric guitars (not at the same time), two smartphone rhythm apps (sampled and altered in various ways), a very cheap desktop keyboard, an actual desktop with smartphone for some of the percussion, and the amazing free audio editing software Audacity. Oh, and of course, a microphone and voice recording program for the singing. I suppose you could add pens and paper for writing the words and music. All in all, not much was needed.
It’s curious that, in order to publish my songs effectively, I need to make “videos” of them, even though the visuals only consist of the icon from my Iterations of Zero website. I don’t even use the icon from this site, because that’s just my face, and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to look at my face long enough to listen to a song.
It’s interesting, though, that one can readily upload videos to Facebook (and Twitter, I think), but they don’t easily let you share simple audio files. As a stereotypical standup comedian might say, “What’s that all about?” It’s a little odd that everyone wants to upload videos and pictures ad infinitum to sites like Facebook and Instagram—as they presume, without any discernable justification, that other people want to look at them—but not audio. Yet the latter can be appreciated even while commuting, even while driving, as the wonder of audiobooks and podcasts (and radio) demonstrates.
Perhaps I’m just a curmudgeon*, but I feel that most videos shared by ordinary people, and often even by professionals, are just talking faces with nonspecific backgrounds relating matters that could be communicated purely by voice (or—God forbid—the written word!).
Anyway, my song is out there. As I’ve said before, making and releasing these songs really is a vanity project for me, not just in the egotistical sense of the word, but also in the sense of it being in vain…pointless. The latter sense of the term applies to me far more often than does the former. Though I have a reasonably good opinion of my ability to perform tasks of various kinds, and to master subjects with a fair amount of depth, I am not vain in the narcissistic sense about much. I have no illusions about the importance of anything I do or make or its value to anyone else. Mostly, I’m just a proverbial Voice Crying Out in the Wilderness ™**. Or, to be a little less pretentious, I’m a case of “I am, I said,” with not even furniture taking note of the declaration.
Nevertheless, since Tuesday I have returned to my usual schedule of working on Unanimity. I’ve encountered an interesting place where the way I wrote the book has shifted character times slightly…meaning I had to go back in time from events of an immediately preceding section to catch up with what was happening to other characters. This is common, of course, since we can’t skip back and forth sentence by sentence to see that one character is doing in “real time” while something is happening to another.
But I think I’m going to have to adjust it. I think the story will flow better if I take the section in question and transplant it to just before the immediately preceding section. This is a minor enough change, and I think most authors probably do it often, but it’s interesting to me because I don’t think I’ve ever needed to do it before. Usually when I write something, it comes out pretty much as the story is “meant” to flow. Unfortunately, Unanimity is just such a long novel, with so much going on, often to characters in separate locations, that it wasn’t all going to come out quite in optimal order on the first draft. Not to say it wouldn’t be tolerable in its current form—it would be—but it wouldn’t be ideal, from my point of view.
That’s all probably not interesting to anyone else but me.
Meanwhile, speaking of audio (I was, you can go back and check), I’m “currently” listening to a wonderful book called Infinite Powers: How Calculus Reveals the Secrets of the Universe. I highly recommend it. Seriously. Even if you’re not a math type person (though I have to admit that I am one, a bit), I think it will give you easy-to-understand but clear and real insights into not just why calculus—and mathematics in general—is so useful to nearly everything of substance in science and technology*** but also why it’s so breathtakingly beautiful that some people are utterly captivated by it and pursue it hour after hour, year after year, even in their spare time.
Galileo famously said that the book of nature is written in the language of mathematics. And someone else said (I can’t find the credit for the quote), “Physicists defer only to mathematicians, and mathematicians defer only to God.” We can imagine universes where the charge and mass of an electron are different than they are here, or where coupling constants and the cosmological constant and the ratio of the strength of the gravitational to the electromagnetic force are different—and we can readily imagine life forms whose genetic data isn’t encoded in DNA…but it’s impossible to conceive of a logically consistent universe in which the square root of two is the ratio of two integers, or in which there is a largest prime number.
Maybe God defers to mathematicians. Or maybe He just is one.
And with that bit of casual blasphemy, I think I’ve done enough damage for this week. I hope you’re all well, and that you’re enjoying listening to, reading, watching, and doing whatever it is that—when integrated under the curve of your lifespan—makes your existence as joyful and fulfilling as possible.
*There’s no “perhaps” about me being a curmudgeon; the “perhaps” refers to whether I’m merely a curmudgeon, or if there’s more to me than that. The jury is still out.
**Actually, I’m quite sure that’s not from the book of Proverbs; I think it’s from Isaiah or Ezekiel. Let me check…
…yes, it’s from Isaiah.
***Which, in the modern world, means pretty much everything, full stop.
I don’t think you’re old enough to be a curmudgeon. 🙂