In mid-February 2023, we were feeling a particular type of way.
We’d spent most of 2022 working on a book-length manuscript on the cultural history of parasocial relationships and we were then, in 2023, faced with having to deal with the non-writing parts of writing (namely, selling the manuscript and its ideas to literary agents who could then sell it to editors who could then sell it to publishers who could then turn it into an actual book and sell it to readers). Despite what you may have heard, this isn’t the most fun thing in the world. It requires describing both yourself and your work in a fairly alienating (and upsetting) way and then hoping that a few of the two dozen or so people in NYC see you and your work as a viable commodity. It took longer than we wanted, but we did what was required and hated every single second.
While talking to agents and engaging in the business of literary culture, we thought a good amount about the glacial pace of publishing and the ever-diminishing value of books in contemporary culture. These thoughts weren’t very productive. Publishing is slow because it’s big business and big business is slow. Books (especially nonfiction books) occupy diminishing cultural value because other forms of media (e.g. online writing, YouTube, podcasts, television, movies) are able to offer a more (or differently) compelling version of what books offer in a less time-consuming and often more timely way. Publishing a book is slow and reading a book is long. Our present cultural landscape (for better or worse) hates slow and long.
While we tend to like slow and long (which, obviously, is why we were writing a book-length thing in the first place), we started - out of frustration and curiosity - to wonder what it might be like to engage in something that was fast and short. We couldn’t really imagine writing under such conditions. We’d have to think differently about things. We couldn’t bury ourselves in deep and sprawling research. We’d have to write with less deliberation or, at least, faster deliberation. We’d have to become more comfortable sharing writing before we were entirely happy with it (which isn’t ever something that happens) or ready to share it (which doesn’t really happen either). To do fast and short stuff, we’d have to throw away our entire practice of writing. This was (theoretically) interesting and (practically) unthinkable.
As we were playing with this idea, we were getting bored with online writing. Clicking from a thinly veiled press release to a think-piece that evidenced little actual thinking to shallow commentary on whatever was trending yesterday was getting to be a drag. Online writing was a well-oiled, attention-mongering machine. Regardless of the merits of the ideas or writing, it all slid by our eyes as some undifferentiated, immanently forgettable mass of text. We chalked this up, of course, to the conditions under which this writing was produced. Folks had to produce fast and short content. Editors had to edit for a (presumably) attention-less and restless readership. Attention had to be grabbed, clicks baited, and so on. This wasn’t a new. Our distaste for it, likewise, wasn’t new. What was new, though, was our interest in joining in on the (non?) fun of producing fast and short content for immediate consumption.
Could we, we wondered, write fast and short stuff that ignored commercial interests, presumed a patient (or at least indulgent) reader, retained an idiosyncratic voice, and refused to offer immediate utility or quick pleasure?
We were pretty sure we couldn’t. We’re still pretty sure we can’t. But all the same, some weekend in late February, we decided to write a blog (?) about (?) Montreal (?) in an attempt to figure out if we could do something fast and short. The only true stricture we placed on ourselves was that we’d post something every other day. The content would have to be short due to the fast turnaround time and the limits of what SubStack will let you publish. We had no real idea what we’d write or how we’d write it, but we were committed to giving it a shot.
So, well, that’s what we’ve been doing. Every other day (with a couple exceptions) we post something about something. We genuinely weren’t expecting anyone to be on the receiving end of this. We didn’t tell anyone (and still haven’t told most people we know) that we were writing this thing for some time. We didn’t (and still don’t) promote ourselves on social media. We didn’t and (and still don’t) have a content strategy that taps into the attention market to drive subscriptions. While we spent a considerable amount of time thinking about what writing this thing might be like, we spent almost no time thinking about who (if anyone) would actually read it.
For truly unknown reasons, people started reading it almost as soon as we started writing. We’ve written about some people, places, and things that (for whatever reason) has caused people to read our words (or, well, click on links, like, comment, subscribe, etc.). This is lovely and unexpected and strange. The actual, immediate presence of (possible) readers - which we’ve written about a couple times now - has undoubtedly had an effect on how and what we write. It (or, rather, you) have also affected when we write. Because we announced that we’d publish something every other day, we publish something every other day. Whether we like it (rare) or not (common), we share a piece of writing with whomever has asked to read it or whomever stumbles upon it every other day.
This pace means a lot of things - but, most practically, it means that we have almost no time to really stop or think. On a non-writing day, we come up with a vague idea we want to address and consider how we might want to address it, take pictures, etc. then we write it out the next day. Sometimes coming up with an idea is the difficult part and sometimes the writing is the difficult part. It depends. But either way, we invariably encounter some kind of difficulty when conceiving and/or creating these posts and we have to, somehow or another, work through this difficulty. It’s been an interesting, fun, exhausting, and delirious challenge. We have, amongst other things, loved it.
BUT!
We’ve been wanting to write some things that require more than, urm, 40 odd hours to think through, write, edit, and post. We’ve also wanted to come up with an actual, y’know, plan for what we’re going to write about, when we’re going to write about it, etc.
So, then, here’s the announcement: we’re not (necessarily) going to be posting every other day from now on.
This doesn’t mean, to be clear, that we’re going to slow down to a monthly or even just a weekly thing - but it does mean that posts are going to come out a little less regularly. We might post every other day occasionally, but there might sometimes be three or four days between posts. In our head, we’re still aiming to post (at least) twice a week.
This does not mean that our writing is going to improve. It won’t. Nor does it mean that what we write is going to change. It’s still going to be the rough, meandering, and questionable content you’ve come to resent and dislike - but it’s going to be resentable and dislikable in a way that a) is a little less intense to produce/consume and b) allows us to dig into certain things a little deeper and more fully than we could otherwise.
We could have, we guess, just started doing this without (melodramatically) announcing it to you, but we figured we owe you an explanation for changing the thing you signed up for. This is that explanation. Your inbox will be a little less and more sporadically crowded from now on because we want to put a different kind of thought and effort into this thing we’re doing.
OK, that’s the announcement. Are you disappointed it’s not an announcement that we’re closing this thing down? Sad that we’re not asking you to pay the low, low price of $5 a month for the dubious pleasure of accessing our nonsense? Tough! You’re going to have to look elsewhere for (usually very justified) quitters or places to spend your money.
Now, the fun (?) part: the invitation.
We’re going to take the next several days to work on our next post, plan and scheme things going forward, etc. so we thought that this’d be great time to invite you, yes, you to contribute to this thing we’re doing. There are two ways you can contribute:
Ask a question. It can be about anything. About us, Montreal, something we’ve written, writing more broadly, bicycles, relationships, whatever. It doesn’t matter. If you have a question that you’d like to ask us, we’d like to answer it or at least try to.
Suggest a topic, person, place, book, movie, song, fragrance, whatever for us to write about. As above, it can be anything. It doesn’t have to be related to any of the usual things we address or Montreal or really anything. Want us to write about rugs? Suggest rugs! Care to read our thoughts about the War of 1812? Suggest that! Literally anything.
You can pose your questions or make your suggestions either in the comment section of this post (which might require a SubStack account) or, better, by emailing us at ooofbong@gmail.com. You don’t need to write up a justification or explanation (unless you want to). It can just be one word if you’re feeling particularly shy or rushed. A question and/or a suggestion. You can even ask or suggest more than one thing. There are really no rules save that you submit things by 1 am on Wednesday (May 10). Why 1 am? No reason. Why Wednesday? Also no reason. You want to suggest 2 am? OK. See, you’re so good at asking questions and making suggestions! Wednesday at 2 am is the deadline. Don’t overthink this or wait until later. Do it now. Question! Suggest!
Soliciting things from folks is a very common content strategy - but we’d like to offer you the very uncommon guarantee that we will address each and every question asked and suggestion offered. We promise. No question or suggestion will be ignored or passed over. Doesn’t matter what it is. We can’t make any promises regarding how we’re going to address these things - but they will all be addressed explicitly. To that end, we’re going to assume that you do not want us to share your name or whatever unless you directly ask us to (in which case please note your name and pronouns when you reach out). You can ask or suggest whatever you want anonymously and without concern that your personal brand will be affected. Or if you want an opportunity to promote your personal brand, we can do that too. We reserve the right not to, like, casually promote your dope new NFT/app/water bottle/lip gloss venture or whatever - but we’ll shout you out somehow if that’s what you want.
OK. So, we’re going to step away from the computer for a little bit, go for a walk, enjoy the sunshine, plan the best content, capture the zeitgeist, finger the cultural pulse, generate deep and thoughtful ideas, become a better writer, change the world etc. and then we’ll be back on (probably) Friday. If you’re reading this and you aren’t already subscribed, we’d suggest subscribing now since our posts are going to be coming out less predictably - but you do you. Believe it or not, the only thing that’s fed by our subscriber count is our ego and (as we’ve said before) our ego is an ugly monster that deserves to be starved into quiet, trembling submission.
We legit described this post to someone yesterday as “just a really quick and easy note,” so we’ve now successfully made ourselves a liar. Good for us.
Finally, here are a couple images that we almost used in the past but, for various reasons, didn’t. We like’em and also want to delete them off our computer. You’re welcome and thank you.
P.S. If you have read every post we’ve published on here, you’ve read the equivalent of a full, commercial book! Like, around 80,000 words! We’re sorry that happened! Saved you, like, $30 tho.
"Fancy that! Mechanized criticism!"
I think you might have done well with that caption, but "Ooof! Bong!" is a classic title, too. If you're taking questions, I'm happy to supply a couple (knowing that the prompt said "a" question, I'll be happy if you pick one or the other, should you be so inclined):
Any thoughts about pop art? I know the comic book aesthetic is welcome, but I wonder whether ye of Ooof! Bong! select the style for its sociohistorical context or some nostalgic quality, or possibly the melodrama of the movement itself (and by pop art, I mean Lichtenstein, not Warhol). Do you delineate these domains at all, or blur them together like Scott McCloud?
Oh, and do you have any favorite pieces of media (novels, films, records, etc.)? The Ooof! Bong! catalog of cultural references seems rather eclectic, so I'm curious to know if there are any enduring favorite projects.
Suggestions . . . I'm finishing Mark Forsyth's The Etymologicon right now. If you like his work on The Inky Fool and/or haven't read the book yet, I'd highly recommend it. His sense of humor and graceful wordplay are a pleasure to experience. I've been listening to Ute Lemper's Punishing Kiss often lately, and recently revisited The Mountain Goats' The Sunset Tree. (Oh! I've begun to delve into the fascinating realm of Connie Converse's music; I've found it beautiful and haunting, an impression made more powerful by the circumstances of her disappearance. That might be an interesting subject to write about.) I haven't been able to watch very much lately, but I've been enjoying a lengthy jaunt into silent films when possible (Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, etc.). I particularly enjoyed The Kid, Chaplin's first feature-length film.
"Or if you want an opportunity to promote your personal brand, we can do that too. We reserve the right not to, like, casually promote your dope new NFT/app/water bottle/lip gloss venture or whatever - but we’ll shout you out somehow if that’s what you want." LOL either write about my Fringe show or write about why I can't get a journalist to review it.