Thursday, August 28th, 2014

An Awl Programming Note

Do not adjust your feeds; they are working correctly. Rather than let pieces trickle out over the next couple of days while we sit by a pool or alone on a mountaintop and try to pretend that our lives, like the summer, are not rapidly collapsing into a single point of nothingness, we are trying an experiment in which we publish all of the day's stories at once. If it proves successful, we may consider an entirely new form of publishing, in which we bundle an entire day's worth of news and commentary into a single package that we deliver to your doorstep. It has never been done before. We're not sure what we are going to call it, but the sound of "hyperlapse publishing" has been bouncing around the office, and it has a nice ring to it.


6 Comments / Post A Comment

brianvan (#149)

"prolapse publishing"

KarenUhOh (#19)

I'll get to work on tomorrow's comments right away.

Tulletilsynet (#333)

Really like the sound of this but it needs an apt, easy-to-remember name! — If the publishing is done in fixed, regular periods, you could call the new thing "regularity". And if it's daily, you could call yourselves "diurnalists" and the activity "diurnalism", maybe? "Regularical diurnalism"?

BoHan (#29)

How many times have you promised me a newsletter you ass-swipes? Stop it! Goes in corner and cries.

KarenUhOh (#19)

So, you're going away for a few days; a vacation, a long weekend, whatever. You're entitled. Even though you've been working there for–what?–five months? Sure. I took a vacation after my first couple of weeks.

But here's the problem. You dropped all this shit on our desks and left. Some of us don't even have desks. And, I'm guessing, 90% of the people who read this pixellated rag do so as they're sitting at desks, like me, watching their weekdays pass through a formaldehyded liquor of slow death; or, they're perched on ratty couches or unmade beds or hard chairs, at home, at a coffee shop, or at the bus station. . .or they're on a bus, staring at their phones–all of them/us, waiting for that next little short-bursted blast of inspiration. . .we're dying for our thoughts to be provoked, we're pining to know What A World this is, even though it's clearly not a What, or even A World, anymore.

We're just sitting here. Right now. Come back at 2:00 a.m. and read this drool, and we'll still be waiting.

Whither, Fair Awl? We take our measured breaks from internal entropy with you, hoping you can restore us.

Alas: you're on your beach or mountain, and hey, YOU'RE there, hoping your lives don't dissolve into that black hole of Nothing Going On.

We're here.

I just want you to know, that you dissolved that black hole right nicely for me. . .for me, and for the other twenty [okay 15][10] loyal followers who now have to content ourselves with work, or worse, LIFE. , .or, death from a thousand cuts, The Daily Beast and Huffington Post, on tomorrow, Friday, a Work Day, until you deign to come down off your mountains or roll in from your beaches to remind us, next Tuesday, how bereft we've become.

I'm not angry; oh, no, not the least bit. But at least Alex Balk, that Teddy Roosevelt's mustache on the Mount Rushmore of the Internet, would have had the decency to just say to us,

"I'm going on vacation, punks. Fuck off and die for a while."

Ekl (#284,891)

I second KarenUhOh.

I can break up my work day with articles, but do not have the self control to portion out articles. The Awl must have self control for me.

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