Hue's Blog

The Internet's Real Purpose

In theory the internet is used for communication, services, automation, marketing, and in the future, if we believe in one-to-one-marketing-reborn-as-targeting-via-big-data, even more marketing.

My counter-theory: the Internet was invented to distribute and remix the interview Charles Ramsey gave, after he rescued Amanda Berry. There is something profoundly enjoyable about him, and the creativity he provoked in others. His interview is great. The song remixes are great. The technology is great. And I found myself frustrated with Facebook because I needed to package all the videos and my thoughts together in one place, and I couldn't do that on Facebook. It would have to be visible, not necessarily public, but not emailed to my friends, unless it was like a newsletter I could make...whatever. I'm sure TypePad would insist that this type of content is exactly what blogs are for, but I disagree (especially given the hoops I'm jumping through to embed the videos through their tools.) This technology isn't exactly right for me making a digital newsletter, controlling the layout and sharing it, but for now it will do.

The original interview:

 

The "melodified" version, which I loved:

 

The "songified" version, which knocked me out:

 

So here I am, confronted with something I think is fantastic, born out of people taking existing tools and making something new for pure invention's sake, and it inspires me to wrestle with my existing tools to try something new.

This is the internet. Delight producing innovation, producing delight. If old grammars and gestures are used, it's not because they are ideal, it's because they are the only raw materials available in making newness. If we have to use current conventions (banners, lists, branding, right-clicking, targeting, segmentation, check-ins) let us do so out of frustration, because there is something new we are propelled to do, and all we have at our disposal is what's been done.

Not adding value is the same as taking it away.

As always, the insightful Seth Godin.

The cost of neutral

If you come to my brainstorming meeting and say nothing, it would have been better if you hadn't come at all.

If you go to work and do what you're told, you're not being negative, certainly, but the lack of initiative you demonstrate (which, alas, you were trained not to demonstrate) costs us all, because you're using a slot that could have been filled by someone who would have added more value.

It's tempting to sit quietly, take notes and comply, rationalizing that at least you're not doing anything negative. But the opportunity cost your newly lean, highly leveraged organization faces is significant.

Not adding value is the same as taking it away.

Equal In The Eyes Of Coffee

You can have a million more Twitter followers than me.

You can have a million more dollars than me.

But you cannot drink a million more cups of coffee than me, because you cannot drink a million cups of coffee.  Unless you drink 45 cups a day, every day, for 60 years.

Which means now matter how powerful you are in other arenas, you cannot use check-ins alone to elevate your favorite coffee shop into the stratosphere, leaving mine in the dust.

And I, in turn, can cast a vote for my favorite coffee shop every day, and no matter who you are I can probably keep pace with you.

That's not to say we are the same.  Anytime tallies are taken there will be peaks and valleys.  But with respect to location-based activity, those peaks and valleys are smoothed out.  A hundred Foursquare check-ins means a lot more than a hundred Twitter followers.

I like that.  All of us having a roughly equal vote about who makes the perfect cup of coffee.

Selling Does Not Equal Talking

Hang out at the New York Soho House long enough and you're going to hear someone pitching an idea.  I've heard two pitches for start-up money in the last two days.  What to both have in common?

The guys asking for money will not shut up.  Like they were using a verbal power hose to blast away all reluctance to invest.

I know in my bones that this is not the strong way to sell.  These tirades make me cringe and I'm only half-listening.  There's a small part of me (very small) that wonders if the investors don't like to see a little desperation, a little sweat.  Not because they're cruel, but because they need to see a level of eagerness that can't be fully controlled.

But still, come up for air at some point in the pitch.

Thanks Alan

I just learned that a man I knew growing up passed away. I didn't know him well, but in my mind he is clear, because in his own mind he was clear. I can't think of a more self-directed and focused person - anchored within his own values. Gregarious but quiet, athletic, internally vs externally disciplined. I find myself now, at the age of 40, wanting many things, and I'm glad I was reminded of someone who didn't seem to need anything.

Thanks, Alan.

Seth Godin: Extending the narrative

I loved this so much I'm reposting it here, in full.  By Seth Godin.

Extending the narrative

Did you wake up fresh today, a new start, a blank slate with resources and opportunities... or is today yet another day of living out the narrative you've been engaged in for years?

For all of us, it's the latter. We maintain our worldview, our biases, our grudges and our affections. We nurse our grudges and see the very same person (and situation) in the mirror today that we did yesterday. We may have a tiny break, a bit of freshness, but no, there's no complete fresh start available to us.

Marketers have been using this persistence to their advantage forever. They sell us a car or a trip or a service that fits the story we tell ourselves. I don't buy it because it's the right thing for everyone, I buy it because it's right for me, the us I invented, the I that's part of the story I've been telling myself for a long time.

The socialite walks into the ski shop and buys a $3000 ski jacket she'll wear once. Why? Not because she'll stay warmer in it more than a different jacket, but because that's what someone like her does. It's part of her story. In fact, it's easier for her to buy the jacket than it is to change her story.

If you went to bed as a loyal company man or an impatient entrepreneur or as the put-upon retiree or the lady who lunches, chances are you woke up that way as well. Which is certainly safe and easy and consistent and non-confusing. But is it helping?

We dismiss the mid-life crisis as an aberration to be avoided or ridiculed, as a dangerous blip in a consistent narrative. But what if we had them all the time? What if we took the resources and trust and momentum that helps us but decided to let the other stuff go?

It's painful to even consider giving up the narrative we use to navigate our life. We vividly remember the last time we made an investment that didn't match our self-story, or the last time we went to the 'wrong' restaurant or acted the 'wrong' way in a sales call. No, that's too risky, especially now, in this economy.

So we play it safe and go back to our story.

The truth though, is that doing what you've been doing is going to get you what you've been getting. If the narrative is getting in the way, if the archetypes you've been modeling and the worldview you've been nursing no longer match the culture, the economy or your goals, something's got to give.

When decisions roll around--from what to have for breakfast, to whether or not to make that investment to what TV show (or none) to watch on TV tonight, the question to ask is: Is this a reflex that's part of my long-told story, or is this actually a good decision? When patterns in engagments with the people around you become well-worn and ineffective, are they persistent because they have to be, or because the story demands it?

All Movie Sets Feel The Same

If you've ever been on a movie set while they are shooting, it's thrilling.  Lots of yelling beforehand, lights, trucks, bullhorns, tension.  It is exciting to make something, and that excitement is palpable.

Notice, I didn't say being on a "good movie" set is exciting. Because on a movie set, you have no idea if the film will be good or bad.  Think of the worst movie you've seen recently - I guarantee that while the film was shooting, people felt like they were making Oscar-worthy material.  Creation is such a rush that it overwhelms other senses and makes you high.  And when you're high, everything is awesome.

Business projects are like movies.  While you are pushing to launch, or driving to close the deal, or re-branding your website - while it's happening it feels amazing.  You can even start to believe that because it feels so good, the results will be good.  People will love the new site design and flock to your business in record numbers.  The client will give you a standing ovation after your sales pitch.

But there are bad movies.  And there are failed redesigns.  And lord knows there are bad sales pitches.  If you can't trust the feeling of doing, what can you trust?  In film they say it's the script.  If the script is good and you stick to the spirit of the script, the film will be good.  Business doesn't always have a script, but I think it does have a goal, or a clear vision.  If you're launching your website and your goal is to delight customers, are you sticking to that goal at all costs?  If you are pitching a client on a new service, have you internalized the client's needs so that you understand them better than the client?

All new ventures start with an idea.  That idea is the real creation - the something new.  Keeping that initial spark or vision at the forefront of all decisions, big or small...I think that's the best guarantee that the result will be as good as the creation process feels.

Dear Turntable.fm

Dear Turntable.fm,

Hi.  You should charge me for being "anti-social."  For a monthly fee, let me note songs I like and let me listen to them on my own, through an iPhone app.  Make me pay to create a channel of 1, i.e. me.  If I want to take from the common good (and I do) charge me for it.

I would pay to be selfish.  And you should let me.

XO, Hue

Existential Sushi

Bond Street Sushi, 8:30 pm.

I put a bite in my mouth, and I realize with searing clarity...

That I am eating food beyond luxury.

That I am overly full, but will forge ahead.

That I am so far from the basic caloric requirements needed to sustain myself.

That this, this bite of sushi, garnished with edible gold leaf, represents excess in the sweetest, most offensive sense.

That John D. Rockefeller, the first American billionaire, never tasted the combination of flavors I am tasting.

It is so inappropriate that I am eating a living wage in every bite.

My conscience joins my stomach in signaling to my brain to stop.

And yet I do not.

Of course I do not.

And this is all before the dessert course.

Damn, that was good.

I Hear The Dead

I never liked The Grateful Dead.  I tried.  At my overly-resourced boarding school, the upside of following the Dead was substantial.  Social currency, sanctioned rebellion...dare I say, possibly getting laid?  And yet I could not.  I felt it was a case of the Emperor's New Clothes, 100%.

I just turned 40.  I have two kids.  I am traveling for work close to 75% now, and it's crushing.  My wife is wrestling with both parts of her "working mom" title.  We barely have time for a quiet meal together.

Last night, sandwiched between a weekend spent working and another week separated by Continental Airlines, we had a sushi date.  And then, pushing our luck and our baby-sitter's patience, we went for frozen yogurt.

Uncle John's Band, off of the "Workingman's Dead" Grateful Dead album, played over the yogurt shop's speakers.  It was so peaceful, so beautiful.  I started swaying, slightly, just wanting to go along with the soothing river, happy to go wherever the song took me.

My wife, a long-time Dead fan, says everyone has their moment when The Grateful Dead speaks to them.  Last night I heard it, and somehow I knew everything was going to be okay.