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Howard Owens is a digital media pioneer. He started publishing local news online in 1995 when very few local news outlets had web sites. The header image on the site depicts the film camera he used early in his career and the press pass from his year on the staff of the Carlsbad Journal. For more on Howard's professional background, read his LinkedIn profile.
HowardOwens.com is the personal web site of Howard Owens and covers his range of interests -- political localism and libertarianism, music and personal interests, as well as his professional interests.
Howard is currently publisher of The Batavian and lives in Batavia, N.Y.
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Monthly Archives: December 2002
Responding to e-mail
My devoted fans send me e-mail …
Hey, el Idiota:
You’re loyal readers want to know, mi amigo, where’s this fiction you keep promising? Some of us are beginning to think you are full of la mierda. You talk big, but don’t deliver.
And how come, when you act like you’re such a big blogger, you barely blog all week? ¿Arriba qué es? No wonder Instapundit doesn’t link to you.
Thank you for your concern, Ricardo. You are, um, so kind.
Would it sound too lame if I plead “I have a life”? Like, I didn’t blog much this weekend because my wife said I’d be sleeping on the couch for the next week if I didn’t get the spare room painted. And let me tell you what a chore that was … at 9:30 last night, we decided the walls needed a second coat, so I buzzed down to Home Depot. Problem was, the only guy working the paint department at that time was a burned out hippie who was busy playing nursemaide to a husband and wife squabbling over trim colors. He gave my request for a gallon of flat “Rising Sun” scant attention, and I was too much of an el Idiota to notice, so I came home and applied a coat of semi-gloss “Sunburst,” which is just a shade darker. While Home Depot was kind enough to front me more paint and primer, I had to redo the entire room, including prime over the semi-gloss.
So, rather than blog this weekend, or write my suspect fiction (you can decide the meaning of that ambiguous phrase), I painted. Unfortunately, I wasn’t painting still lifes of mobile homes; rather, I was transforming the guest room into something civilized.
As for the rest of the week, and the rest of my life for that matter. Let me tell you about some of the irons I have in the fire.
Leaving aside the fact that it was Christmas week and I spent four days in San Diego with our families (meaning mine and my wife, not yours), I have a number of responsibilities and interests. For example, I have a full-time job that is, in fact, really a full-time job. Then I’m trying to get in better shape and lose weight (and not doing too badly at it), so I go to the gym pretty regularly. That takes up time, and believe me I would rather blog than spend 20 or 30 minutes on a treadmill. And to keep abreast of my work, I’m trying to brush up on XML, read a couple of general interest programming books and … AND … learn JAVA. Of course, I want to continue spending some time with Bukowski now and then, but he’s been feeling neglected of late. And I do like to take some time to actually read other people’s blogs regularly (check out all of the great blogs on my blog roll, including Glenn Reynolds‘). Not to mention, I’ve got Pierce‘s Blook to read.
Besides all that, there are several Web sites that I am responsible for, so I have to pay attention to those.
And when there is time, I still try to squeeze in a few hundred words on one of my short stories. I’m not making this up. I do do fiction when I can. And intend to continue to pursue those goals.
And, of course, there is always the wife. Can’t forget her, though apparently, Ricardo, you would like me to. Love needs more maintainance than a Web site, you know. I am careful about that.
And I would still like to sneak in time to study Spanish, but it never seems to work out.
And see that picture of me in the upper left? I’m holding a guitar. I dare you to ask me when the last time was that I actually touched my guitar. Go ahead. I double dog dare ya. Continue reading
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The online-news industry in 2003 and beyond
A few thoughts on Steve Outing’s end of the year column …
He predicts for 2003:
Even though pop-ups are intrusive enough that they work better than the old standard Web ad banners, I think they’ll slowly die out due to consumer backlash.
Consumers hate television commercials, too, but we still have them.
My speculation is that advertisers will still find pop-ups appealing and will continue to buy them so long as click-through rates and branding studies show them to be effective. In fact, I would think that as more and more consumers install and use pop-up blocking software, pop-ups will become even more attractive to advertisers — because there will reach a point where the vast majority of consumers who actually see the ads will be those who have the least resistance to them. These are the consumers most likely to respond.
The real challenge for online publishers will be in devising a way to price these ads. Many pop-up blockers register an ad impression because the ad opens briefly, so the publisher cannot give a true accounting of impressions. So, if there ever was an ad format best designed for price-per-click fees, poppers are it.
Personally, I hate poppers, but just because we consumers hate them doesn’t mean that advertisers won’t continue to love them — they just need to deliver enough ROI, and I don’t think that is too big of a hurdle.
On the classified front, Outing is most pessimistic:
Most newspapers won’t move quickly enough and will see further loss of recruitment market share to Monster.com, et al within their local markets.
Recruitment advertising has traditionally been a newspaper’s strongest suit and most important revenue source. This is changing, and no matter what newspapers do, newspapers will never again dominate this market as they once did. This is the biggest change the “new economy” has wrought. I don’t believe the situation is hopeless, however. While newspapers will need to scramble to better meet the needs of their clients (and they need to start looking on HR departments as clients, and not customers), newspapers remain the business best positioned to help local employers.
My prediction: Look for newspapers to start providing personalized job matching services — not, per se, a searchable résumé bank; rather, recruitment teams will start pre-screening résumés for employers and giving them the best possible matches, at a premium price. The newspaper will become the head hunter, even on lower-end jobs.
Outing is also bullish on Wi-Fi, or the wireless Internet. I remain bearish. First, where is the revenue? I can’t see recommending that my employer spend a lot of time and effort in PDAs, cell phones, and tablets until I can see a revenue model that works. While it was important for newspapers to jump into the online world in 1994/95, when revenue models were hard to imagine, I don’t think newspapers need to remain cutting edge about every new technology that comes down the pike. Getting online was a no brainer because it opened up a world of possibilities and it was clear pretty early that the Net would become important. Also, falling behind then was dangerous, but falling behind on PDAs doesn’t seem nearly as fatal. Wireless, as popular as it seems today, remains a boutique service, and the consumers of such services are even less likely to pay for wireless content than Internet consumers. And with the smaller screens, where do you put ads?
Yes, there is a market for breaking news (national and international), sports scores and stock reports on wireless, but there are also plenty of news channels providing those services already. I’m not sure there is a screaming need to get local news (which is what the vast majority of online news professionals are concerned about) on PDAs.
My big prediction for 2003 and beyond is to look for online newspapers to bank less on banner ads — including poppers and rich media ads — and more on leveraging print/online synergies, such as the Top Jobs application, print ads online, coupons and the like. Newspapers are also going to continue to move in a direction that leverages their standing in their local communities to better meet the needs of advertisers and consumers. Applications like online auctions that provide local advertisers with unique and inexpensive means to market directly to consumers will continue to grow and morph into new ideas.
I would say more, but I don’t want to give away the shop. Continue reading
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Dreaming of poetry
In the summer of 1984, I had just returned to San Diego from Santa Maria, Calif., and I was writing poetry like mad.
I desperately wanted to be published, and the leading poetry magazine in town at the time was “We Accept Donations,” published by Forrest Curo and Ann Halter Jones.
I showed Forrest some of my poetry, and he was unimpressed (politely so). I was a modernist and he was definitely a post-modernist, and even though I had not yet studied the differences in college yet, I could see we each took very different approaches to poetry.
I preferred my style, but I was willing to experiment.
So, I read a few issues of “We Accept Donations” and got a feel for the kind of poetry Forrest preferred, and then I dashed off “We all need dreams.” The poem, literally, took me less than 15 minutes to write and I never revised a word. It was purely an exercise in imitation and, frankly, it’s never been one of my favorite poems.
But Forrest loved it. He accept it for publication, along with a couple of poems he previously rejected, and he accepted a couple more poems from me in the next issue (which, if it wasn’t the last issue of the little magazine, WAD folded soon after that). And publication resulted in an invitation for me to “headline” a poetry reading at a small La Mesa bookstore, which marked the pinnacle of my poetry career.
BTW: I do accept donations, if you feel so inclined … tip jar to the right. Continue reading
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The Only Band That Mattered
In high school, I had a t-shirt that read … “The Only Band That Matters.”
At the time, I really believed it.
That band was The Clash.
My punk heroes keep dying on me. It’s quite sad. Continue reading
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Welcome visitors from Xanga
What the hell is Xanga and why the heck am I getting so many referrers from that site the last few days? Continue reading
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Joy in the mail today
If I had been home, I would have kissed the postman today … twice.
Arriving from good friend, kick-ass journalist and fine musician Kevin Featherly was a CD titled “Gettysburg.” It is the result of what happens when you turn loose a talented man with a home recording studio and CD duplication tools and a good printer. As expected, Kev’s songs are soulful and deep.
And what happens when you give a talented man a keyboard connected to the Internet? You get the Bus Blog, and arriving with Kev’s bundle of joy was Tony Pierce‘s “Blook,” a collection of his best writing from the first year of the Bus Blog. I ordered my copy. Have you? You should. I’m only a few pages into it so far and already overstimulated on good writing.
My copy of the “Blook” is number 70. I guess that makes me about half as important as Glenn Reynolds . I’m cool with that. I’ve been reading Pierce for a lot less time. Unless, of course — novel concept — Pierce numbered them according to the order in which orders were received, if you follow what I’m saying. I wonder what numbers Layne and Welch got? Who the hell cares — all the cool people already have the book anyway, I’m sure. And that’s what matters (hey, don’t get mad at me for gloating — I’m so rarely among the cool — it’s a heady feeling). Continue reading
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Welcome Gawker
OK, where’s a gawker.com for Los Angeles/Hollywood?
UPDATE: Denton responds with: What about LAExaminer.com? My answer: I love LAX, but it’s not quite the same.
BTW: I should have mentioned … first heard of the gawker through >Instapundit.com Continue reading
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At Melville’s Tomb
Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge
The dice of drowned men’s bones he saw bequeath
An embassy. Their numbers as he watched,
Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured.
And wrecks passed without sound of bells,
The calyx of death’s bounty giving back
A scattered chapter, livid hieroglyph,
The portent wound in corridors of shells.
Then in the circuit calm of one vast coil,
Its lashings charmed and malice reconciled,
Frosted eyes there were that lifted altars;
And silent answers crept across the stars.
Compass, quadrant and sextant contrive
No farther tides . . . High in the azure steeps
Monody shall not wake the mariner.
This fabulous shadow only the sea keeps.
– Hart Crane
I first read Hart Crane in a poetry anthology. It was this poem, in fact, that led me to seek out more of his work. At the time, I was fully enthralled with T.S. Eliot, who still ranks among the giants in my personal pantheon of writers, but Crane has long been the standard by which I judge my own poetry (and I fall pathetically short of that standard, I know).
Crane may be one of the most difficult modern poets to comprehend. Each line is so packed with meaning that a lifetime of study rarely reveals the true depth of any Crane poem.
Take just the first four lines of “At Melville’s Tomb” for example — we have thrown together the idea of random chance in life (the dice), fortune telling (again, the dice), death that is both caused by chance and leads to chance, and a diplomatic connection between the living and the dead (the embassy). And even with that brief inventory of meanings, we still do not arrive at an articulate connection between the words and their impact on the reader.
Crane called this the “logic of metaphor:”
. . . [A]s a poet, I may very possibly be more interested in the so-called illogical impingements of the connotations of words on the consciousness (and their combinations and interplay in metaphor on this basis) than I am interested in the preservation of their logically rigid significations at the cost of limiting my subject matter and the perceptions involved in the poem.
“At Melville’s Tomb” is one of the best illustrations of Crane’s point. While the poem is backed with unexpected flights of word play, the language is in no way trivialized and the overall scope of the poem remains cohesive and coherent. Crane takes unusual words, combines them in unusual ways and beats out odd rhythms on his way to hitting you in the gut with a powerful image. In this case, it is an image of death and fate seen through the closed eyes of Herman Melville.
Take a line like “Frosted eyes there were that lifted altars …” The phrase does not necessarily communicate a straightforward thought, but it is a powerful image once you piece together the look of a drowning man’s eyes, staring heavenward as he descends to the depths of a pitiless and icy sea, lifting prayers for his very soul as death becomes inevitable. A lesser poet would have been more direct, and therefore less powerful.
Crane is by no means an easy poet to comprehend, but none of the truly great poets ever are. Life is never easy, so how can a poet truly hope to reflect reality in simple phrases and trite observations? Language is, after all, a poor tool for describing life, so the poet must squeeze every ounce of meaning from the pitifully few words he has to choose from and illuminate our being as best he can. Crane did better than most.
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Pete Rose
I agree with Aaron Haspel. Rules are rules. And even if you change the rules now — and you shouldn’t — Rose knew the rules at the time he broke them. Keep the loser out of the Hall. Continue reading
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Alvin and Bukowski
It’s probably no coincidence that I’ve posted a song lyric by Dave Alvin and a poem Charles Bukowski in the same night.
Consider this from Acoustic Guitar:
As a working-class son of semirural Downey, California, he did not consider his old neighborhood to be a heartland of song. “Songwriters came from some other place,” he says. Alvin took inspiration from local writers such as Gerald Locklin and bar fly emeritus Charles Bukowski, who held readings in a Long Beach saloon. “When I read him the first few times it was like, ‘Oh my God! Alvarado and Western Ave.? You can write poetry about that?’”
Last night, as I rocked to the Blasters at the House of Blues, I thought about Bukowski and Los Angeles and this quote. On a song like “Help You Dream,” even though neither Los Angeles nor Buk is mentioned, but knowing of the big influence Bukowski had on Alvin, I could sense the aura pervade the lyric. I can’t imagine the scene of the song taking place anywhere but a bar in L.A. And “Hollywood Bed” must have been written after Alvin read a few hundred Bukowski poems about screwing women in Los Angeles.
So both Alvin and Bukowski have been on my mind much of the day. And they aren’t bad people to have on your mind. Continue reading
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