TMB*

One impact of modern communication technology is that we now prefer to text instead of talking on the phone. Sometimes texting can be a fast and efficient way to figure out logistics. Adept texters set up their messages in way that minimizes message overload. A typical text from such a person will state the time of the event and invite you along; the event will happen with or without you, and you don’t even need to reply. If you choose to then you can accept or decline the generic invitation with a short phrase. While mass texting is efficient, it should be used sparingly, and only to communicate info regarding an important event. Etiquette would demand that people do not mass text about some minor detail of their lives, such as what they happen to be doing at the moment, personal preference, or their opinion. Facebook and Twitter remain the appropriate venue for such communication. Also it can be risky and a hassle to mass text and invite people to an event with limited attendance. For example, “I have two tickets to the ( - ) show, anyone want to go?” Depending on the text list, this can quickly turn into a nightmare for the texter, when more people want to go then there are tickets, seats, spaces available, or when people agree then change their minds. In this case, it’s best to create a Facebook event or send an old fashioned Evite. Mass texting is undoubtedly about efficiency and inclusion, but it is important to manage the text list properly so that you don’t invite people out who have since moved, are on vacation, or are recently deceased.

While mass texting is sometimes necessary, the majority of the messages we send are to individuals. We all have different attitudes toward texting in regard to what is acceptable or even necessary. Some like to send messages about trivial things, while others prefer that messages serve some logistical or practical purpose. From this we get texts as varied as, “just saw a pink cat at the mall,” to “pick up some milk on your way home from work.” Much of people’s attitude toward texting is determined by their texting plan. If you pay a twenty cents a text, you are likely not going to appreciate hearing about the pink cat; if you have an unlimited plan, you might find yourself commenting on all manner of things you see and experience in your daily routine: pink cats, a rash on your leg, the tasty burrito you just ate, how boring your client meeting is, etc. In this way texting serves to prove we exist and have thoughts and feelings. Whether anyone cares or not, this form of communication is once again more appropriate for a status update or a tweet.

Texting, along with tweeting and status updates, is changing the way we write. With texting we are developing a new shorthand for communication. Above all, we want texting to be fast, so instead of spelling out words, we reproduce them phonetically by single vowels, letters, or numbers. In this way, we take contraction to a new level and “I’ll see you later,” becomes “c u l8r.” In addition to abbreviating our words, we have created new acronyms such as MEGO, my eyes glaze over, for you business types at a meeting; MOS, mother over shoulder, for the precocious teen; or ADIH, another day in hell, for the dyed-in-the-wool optimist. One wonders if in the future we will be able to communicate in a lexicon comprised entirely of acronyms, the roots of which we will all have since committed to memory. Certainly, it wouldn’t be difficult to just use the first letter of every word, and, like airport codes, when there was some redundancy we could include only the crucial letters. What would it sound like if, for nations using the Roman alphabet, we made it a spoken language as well? Like pig latin, the question is whether or not it would catch on. AAR IDTS BITMT WWJD**?

One problem with texting is that with its short format and abbreviated form it is very difficult to sense the tone of a person’s communication. While emoticons may be helpful in indicating when someone is happy, sad, or trying to be funny, they fall far short of expressing more subtle emotions. Even if the list of emotions was expanded and the expressions refined, emoticons would still be useless in expressing irony or sarcasm. In the absence of being able to see a person’s face, hear their voice, and observe their body language, novels seem the most capable of providing us with an in-depth look into the emotional landscapes of human beings. We have all likely experienced a misunderstanding while texting where what we intended to communicate was not what was perceived. In this way the happy emoticon we intended to be funny was thought to be mocking, or the sad emoticon we employed to sympathize was misconstrued as pity. Not all of us are poets who can express great emotion and beauty with an economy of words, and even poets would have trouble employing the new vernacular to mine the depths of their souls and seduce the maidens of their hearts.

Another problem with texting is that, like all recorded writing, once the message is sent over the airwaves it is permanent. There is no taking back that drunk text to your ex-sombody late at night, that petty comment made to a friend or coworker, that bitter complaint about your job or your boss, that obscene come-on to a new love interest, and any and all off-the-cuff comments that can be misunderstood and taken out of context; no, it has become a part of the ether, recorded on someone else’s phone, and possibly forwarded to where it can make you look like a fool, do considerable damage to your reputation, and potentially destroy your livelihood. So perhaps an economy of language isn’t so bad after all. Instead of texting to replace verbal communication, which we forgive for its spontaneity and is lost to the wind, we should use it for practical purposes, never saying any more than necessary, as if we were being interrogated in a courtroom.

On the other hand, perhaps an inverse relationship exists between the quantity and the quality of our written communication. A consequence of constant texting, tweeting and updating our profiles may be that we are less concerned with the conventions of grammar, engage in less in-depth thought, and have lost our sense of audience, concerned as we are with sharing our own day to day activities and opinions with the world. The benefit of this is that if we share something personal and perhaps compromising people are less likely to care. In the sea of written information that we are all swimming in, we can no longer see the meaning for the words.

In this period of overlapping technologies and unlimited access to information, it can be confusing to understand the proper forum, format, and etiquette for our communication. Already on our phones we can talk, text, email, watch videos, play video games, listen to music, and surf the net; the same goes for our computers. The north south divide notwithstanding, what this has meant is the horizontal integration of human society in which everyone can be a creative subject. While this has made it easier to express one’s ideas and pursue one’s own self interest, it has also made it harder to be recognized in sea of competition, and harder still to determine what is quality content. Simply put, we are overwhelmed with information and need to be selective and sincere in what we share and consume.


* TMB (Text me back)
** AAR IDTS BITMT WWJD? (At any rate I don’t think so, but in the meantime what would Jesus do?)

Click here for a list of text message abbreviations.

Finding the Flow

Never before in history has it been so easy to communicate with our fellow human beings. In the developed world, the majority of us carry an internet-enabled cell phone in our pocket wherever we go. At home most of us have wireless access on our computers. Through our phones and computers we surf the web, read blogs, watch videos, listen to music, and email and socially network on sites including Facebook, Twitter, etc. Meanwhile, our digital technology is radically changing the way we communicate: people spend less time talking face-to-face, more people choose to text instead of talk on their phones, short format written messages are more popular than long format, and overall quality of communication is declining. Finally, given the accessibility, variety, and redundancy of information technology, many people are feeling overwhelmed and tuning out. In short, improved technology does not necessarily mean improved communication.

When I lived in Granada, Spain, I didn’t have a phone, nor did I have internet access at home or at school, and there were no internet cafes. Yes, it sounds incredible, but it’s true. At the time, the internet was a fairly new phenomenon, and though cell phones were popular in Europe a decade before the United States, they were far from ubiquitous; I didn’t have one and neither did anyone I knew. In order to remedy these barriers to communication, I did the incredible: I paid spontaneous personal visits to my friends. While I know this is shocking and extremely faux pas in the contemporary United States, where you wouldn’t want to bother anybody who must be extremely busy by stopping by unannounced, in Granada that was what you had to do if you wanted to have friends. So when I wasn’t attending class, studying, working, etc. I would walk around town and visit people. When a friend wasn’t home, I would often hang out with and befriend a roommate; when they were, we would do the same: sit and talk, listen to music, eat, or go out to a bar or café. From there we might visit someone else and repeat the process, this time maybe substituting the bar for a park or plaza, or a sports activity. Since we all spent a lot of time hanging out face-to-face, we knew each other and our schedules pretty well: who was working where, who was at their favorite café, and who was meeting up for a volleyball game.

Socializing in Spain

Even though Granada was a town of 230,000 people, there was no need to have a phone or internet connection to locate anyone. Everything we did happened in person or by word of mouth. We all lived in shared apartments so our network was large; Groups formed organically, people would come and go depending on their obligations, and one event would transition seamlessly into the next; a day of sport would segue into drinks at a bar where someone would suggest dinner at their flat, and someone else would stop by with news of a private party or show that night. We were living in the flow, which meant embracing chance encounters and spontaneous events, and being open to and inspiring each other. This creative lifestyle opened the door to numerous positive experiences and opportunities to learn and grow as a person. While we all had our obligations, we did not neglect our social lives, and we never considered an impromptu visit an interruption or an imposition. While some aspects of that lifestyle were characteristic of being a young student, in our adult lives we still desire and deserve to be part of a dynamic loving community.

A Flamenco Community

Unfortunately, in the United States today community is become increasing harder to find and maintain. Part of this is cultural: we subscribe unquestioningly to the flawed notion that time is money, which makes it so that we are always in a hurry. We are horrified by the idea of wasting time, so we move through our lives like a train, each on our own track, making the necessary stops, and squeezing activities in where we can: grocery shopping or a visit to the doctor on our lunch break, the gym after work, dinner on the go, always for a fixed amount of time, always in terms of “How long will it take to do x, y, or z?” Sometimes our trains cross paths but most of the time they don’t. When they do we seldom stop to say hello; consequently, we have difficulty making new connections.

We take the same approach to our social lives, planning things with a sense of urgency that is self-imposed and often unnecessary. We schedule our free time like work, one hour for this and two hours for that, often overcommitting ourselves and consequently reducing the quality of our experiences with others. We do this because we mistakenly believe that if we don’t try to do it all we are somehow missing out. Ironically, by always being overbooked and in a hurry, we miss out anyway because we have eliminated spontaneity from our lives. We have forgotten that life is organic and the best experiences and encounters are those that are not planned or expected. But instead of adapting to and embracing the moment, we cling to our schedule, telling ourselves that something exciting will happen again, later, and this time as a part of our plans. But we are only fooling ourselves. In our embrace of the corporate ethos of productivity and efficiency we have lost sight of the concept of life as an exploration where value and meaning are created through quality communication, personal reflection, and informed action. It is not enough to merely act busy, make an appearance, and look the part.

Communications technology exacerbates the problem by providing us with twenty-four hour access to an ever-growing network of friends and colleagues. We are connected to so many people that it becomes harder to communicate with them all in depth or with sincerity. The number of events we hear about has grown exponentially and we feel anxious over having to choose between them. We are past the point where it is possible to delude ourselves with overbooking; there is no way we can do it all, which means we have to miss out. Our reaction to this phenomenon is two-fold: we spread ourselves too thin, thereby neglecting and straining our close relationships, and/or we begin to block communication, particularly the in-depth time-consuming variety, thereby isolating ourselves. Because we wish to stay connected, we spend more time online instead of meeting people in person, while our phone ultimately becomes a logistical device.

Sometimes I imagine how life would be in Granada if I were studying there now. I would likely spend a lot of time updating my profile for my global network of friends, while seeing those nearby less. I would know everybody’s whereabouts, and would plan my visits accordingly, never stopping by unannounced. Instead of calling people, I would text them to set up a meeting time; we would likely text back and forth several times to find out a mutually convenient time to meet at a mutually acceptable location. We would text other people and suddenly it would become too complicated and no one would go. Being informed of all the events happening on any given day through my network would ensure that I seldom went anywhere without a specific plan or purpose. Showing up or not wouldn’t matter because the invitation would be generic. If I did show up, I could pose for a couple of pictures and leave, thereby checking the activity off my to do list, because somehow having been there would become more important than being there. Alternatively, I might not go at all, after having seen no new names on the guest list, and given my familiarity with the location and the predictability of the event. When someone posted their pictures the next day, I could just imagine myself in them, write a comment like “Whoa, you’re such a crazy dancer (insert name here),” send a thumbs up and feel like I had participated, thereby maintaining my online visibility without the work of actually socializing. As a result of this more structured isolated life, I would meet less people and have fewer novel experiences. Ironically, I would feel more connected than ever while being less so.

While email, social networks, and cell phones can be useful for keeping in touch, they are not a substitute for face-to-face communication. If world leaders still insist on meeting in person, we should, too.

Corto Maltese

Let me confess: I’m a fan of cartoons. I’m not talking about the Marvel or DC variety, with their save the world ethos and characters wearing tights with superpowers, fresh out of bodybuilding competitions, or Japanese Manga, but European and underground comics and graphic novels, which present the adventures of unusual and interesting characters with original artwork in the context of entertaining and well-developed plots.

I grew up reading Goscinny and Uderzo’s Asterix, the story of two unlikely Gauls, one short (Asterix) the other fat (Obelix), who take on the Roman empire with the help of a magic potion brewed from roots gathered by the village druid (Miraculix). While the cartoon does include historical elements, it clearly does not take itself seriously. The Romans are depicted as buffoons, and the fictional village from which the unlikely heroes originate (somewhere on the coast of modern Brittany, France) is full of idiosyncratic and truculent characters that frequently suspend their internal dramas to fight the Romans alongside their heroes.

Later I discovered Hergé’s The Adventures of Tintin, a comic about a young Belgian reporter of the same name who participates in dramatic and often unusual events in exotic destinations, along with a cast of characters that include the alcoholic and irritable Captain Haddock, hard of hearing but brilliant Professor Calculus, and the bumbling twin detectives Thomson and Thomson. Hergé’s unique “ligne claire” drawing style, characterized by clean lines of uniform thickness paired with detailed realistic settings, makes the comic a pleasure read.

While historically these have been two of the more popular European comics, anyone who has been to a comic book store in Europe, or the reading library of the Belgian Comic Strip Center in Brussels, knows that they only scratch the surface of the endless variety of interesting comics available. Given the diversity of plots and themes such comics explore, they are popular with children as well as adults. In Japan, Manga are also popular with adults, in some cases because they contain pornographic content. In the United States, comics remain of interest mostly to children and young adults, though they have seen increased acceptance by an adult audience through adaptation into film. American superhero comics have historically dominated the industry while currently Manga are experiencing increased popularity. As a result, European comics, such as Hugo Pratt’s Corto Maltese, are not as well known in the United States, which is unfortunate because they are truly works of art.

I first discovered Corto Maltese in Bologna, Italy in a nightclub painted with characters and scenes from his adventures. I found the artwork so compelling that I stopped by a bookstore the next day to buy a copy of series. In brief, the eponymous character Corto Maltese is an enigmatic sailor/adventurer who was born in Malta to a Spanish gypsy witch and a British sailor, and who grew up in Córdoba in Andalucía. While you may find characters with a similar unusual past within the pantheon of Marvel or DC superheroes, what you won’t find is the complex character development and behavior to back it up.

Mostly, mainstream American superheroes are vehicles designed to move the plot forward in a struggle between good and evil. Frequently, they are individuals with a marginal or troubled background who discover they have superpowers as a result of some “accident,” which leads them either to become villains who avenge themselves on the world to compensate for an inferiority complex, or heroes who fight to save the world in order to gain acceptance or right some past wrong. Corto Maltese, on the other hand, is an ordinary man who does not wear a costume, has no superpowers, and possesses no special weapons. Instead of becoming a psychopath or dedicating his life to fighting injustice, as his background might indicate, he simply goes about his life looking for opportunity where he can find it; in short, he is a morally ambiguous opportunist like most human beings. And while Corto is depicted as tall, dark and handsome, he does not possess the ideal superhero physique. He is not very muscular, is hirsute, and has the rough features of a French Foreign Legionnaire. Furthermore, Pratt’s artwork displays an unfinished organic quality that adds value to the comic, but that is unfamiliar to mainstream superhero comics and Japanese Manga, which are often drawn by formula.

Another salient difference between Corto Maltese and superhero comics is their worldview. Superhero comics provide an escape from human limitations in that the reader lives vicariously through the superhero or supervillain of their choice and is able to indulge in violence without accountability and fantasize about its potential application to the obstacles in their own life. Morality in this genre is merely a function of the existing power structure; superheroes work to protect the status quo while “criminals” attempt to co-opt and/or subvert it. Corto Maltese avoids this facile dichotomy of right and wrong. Corto’s world is totally grey, and the only morality that is valid is relative to one’s own stake in the game. Corto often finds himself caught in difficult situations in which there are no easy solutions; consequently, he must make a compromise choice that often involves a sacrifice of life, a betrayal, the abandoning of some goal, or a precipitated escape when the odds become overwhelming. And while Corto Maltese does provide us with an escape, in that Corto is a risk-taker with nothing to lose who pursues opportunities worldwide, the comic is more of a reflection on the moral and ethical ambiguities of existence in the context of dramatic circumstances as experienced by an adventurous but flawed human being.

Corto is not concerned with world domination or absolute power; he is instead a man without illusions motivated by personal gain. Corto is, above all, a lonely adventurer who knows ultimately that he must look out for himself; he is not the sort to sacrifice himself for an ideal or the greater good. He is also a stoic, who speaks only when necessary and who is equally tolerant of solitude or mutually beneficial cooperation. He makes no show of his feelings, and while he may appear at times despondent, he is humble and patient, waiting for an opportunity to arrive. He does not make a big show of love, but he is not without feelings, though his expectations appear low in this regard. While Corto is no saint or role model, he often comes to the aid of the oppressed and is open minded and accepting of others.


It is with some irony then that Corto Maltese asks the ostensibly rhetorical question, “I’m not a hero, am I?” He is undoubtedly an antihero, like anyone who faces the challenges in their ordinary lives with patience, intelligence and reasoned action, and who bears their personal burdens with a sense of irony and humility. Corto is an individual one can respect because he minds his own business, neither boasts nor brags, is even-tempered and generally reasonable in his actions. But he is also a man capable of violence who is selfish in his pursuits, reticent about his true feelings, and loyal to none. While Corto embodies many of the stereotypical traits of manhood, for good and bad, he also possesses confidence, cosmopolitan elegance, self-awareness, and a sense of irony, in addition to exhibiting some sadness and vulnerability born of his solitary and unstable life. Corto is a compelling character precisely because he is enigmatic. In the world of superhero comics where people are saved, justice is served, and what you see is what you get, Corto Maltese offers no easy answers or solutions. In the context of adventure, Hugo Pratt’s seminal comic forces us to look below the surface at the mystery of life with the full knowledge that we may never come to understand ourselves or others. In this regard, Corto Maltese is an undeniable success.

In a recent conversation with a friend, I discovered that several films have been made based on Corto Maltese. Click here for a clip of Corto Maltese: La Cour secrete des Arcanes (2002). While the artwork is stylized and differs from Pratt’s original drawings, the film gives you an idea of what Corto’s all about. The clip is in French, but you can enjoy the images even if you’re not a French speaker. Unfortunately, the film is not yet available on Netflix. Join me in requesting that they add it to their library.