“You can’t see me or touch me….”

This is the sort of social media that is indeed “social”: a sympathy message last night from an Irish friend – a longtime girlfriend of ours in Dublin, with whom we’d traveled to Florida in the summer of 2014.

The beach behind our Marathon, Florida holiday rental, with an iguana meandering across it. [Photo by me, 2014.]
The beach behind our Marathon, Florida holiday rental, with an iguana meandering across it.[Photo by me, 2014.]

Several years back, her parents passed away within a year of each other. She had also been thinking about our late girlfriend, Kam. She felt this might be helpful to me:

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Happy Thanksgiving! (Now Let’s Wreck Our Family?)

Based on my novels’ overall background subject matter, on here as you know invariably some nods are given to the realities of politics. But that’s all. This site is NOT about partisan politics, we’re readers and writers here.

So this post is not some shocking change of pace. It’s not about “politics.” However, a few brief paragraphs of background are unfortunately required for this post if you’ll just bear with me for a moment as you read and scroll down.

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I Can “Like” That At Last!

As you may know, this blog has been the center of my authoring universe since my very first post back in (what seems so long ago) 2013. I’m only (again) starting to come to grips with my official Facebook page, which has been up a few months. Up to now, Facebook has really been mostly just an extension of this blog:

Facebook page screen capture.
Facebook page screen capture.

I’m visiting briefly with Dad again – after driving down from the Catskills here to the Poconos in Pennsylvania, 2 and 1/2 hours away. Last night, he was having a snooze in front of the television. When he sleeps, I don’t disturb him. (Understandably, he’s often miserable and stressed since Mom’s death.)

Earlier, a commenter on a several months’ old post on here got me to thinking. So with Dad sleeping, I thought why not FINALLY figure out how to “Like” Facebook pages from my Facebook author page?

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“Paris” Will Always Capture U.S. Headlines

There has been criticism in some media and social media quarters over the avalanche of U.S. media reporting on the November 13 Paris massacres. Pointed to especially has been the comparatively far lesser coverage of the November 12 Beirut suicide blasts, in which over 40 were killed. The disparity between the two has prompted accusations that Americans simply don’t care nearly as much about mayhem in Beirut as they do about mayhem in Paris:

Screen capture of the New York Times.
Screen capture of the New York Times.

I’m not going to try to defend a difference in newspaper column inches and cable TV air time between the two horrors. Rather I will attempt briefly to address what is probably the basis for it. A personal experience came to my mind.

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A Soul Of Steel

Late on Thursday, I had driven my father and sister back to his Pennsylvania house (a 2 and 1/2 hour trip). Yesterday I came back here to the Catskills. I have been so stressed out in the last month over the death of my uncle and especially my mother, I wanted to be alone here in my own house for a few days…. and listen to music, watch the occasional deer, and stare at the scenery:

We've awoken to unexpected snow in the Catskills. [Photo by me, 2015.]
We’ve awoken to unexpected snow in the Catskills. [Photo by me, 2015.]

But that didn’t mean I’d cut myself off completely. Last night, I was chatting with a cousin on the phone. We were discussing my mother and my uncle, and their deaths, and remembering family, such as our grandparents.

Suddenly my wife messaged me – from ENGLAND – asking had I seen what was happening in Paris?

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“Boo! I’m you, but not you!”

Recently on About.me, a man who identified himself as a “ghostwriter” viewed my profile. I’m not in need of one of those. Nevertheless, it prompted me to think on what “ghostwriting” means in terms of you as “the author.”

“Ghostwriters” have always been around, of course. Bookstores and Amazon are awash with books written by someone other than “the author.” And we as readers don’t seem to mind.

Free Stock Photo: Illustration of a ghost costume.
Free Stock Photo: Illustration of a ghost costume.

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Vanished “Stars”

With the flick of a switch, Twitter changed an entire social media convention that had arisen since the site opened: the favorite “star” has been replaced suddenly by a “heart.”

Left to right on Twitter below on a tweet:
Left to right on Twitter below a tweet: “Reply,” “Retweet,” “Heart” (which used to be a “Favorite” star), and a drop down menu for more.

As you know if you visit here regularly, my mother and my crime novelist uncle both died in October. So I’ve not been using Twitter much in recent weeks, of course. But last night, as I browsed it, I noticed quite a few people aren’t happy about the change.

And I agree. My biggest complaint about the change is it’s retroactive: all of my past “stars” are now suddenly “hearts?”

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Those Facebook “Slips”

Ah, trying to keep a secret when there’s Facebook…. and novelist uncles who forget and post things to your wall that you had made absolutely clear to him you didn’t want all of your family and close friends to know.

“How’s the writing going?”

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And You’re Sure The Minitel Could’ve Gone Global

R. J. Nello:

It’s interesting, and pleasing, when an “old” post suddenly re-attracts attention briefly – usually thanks to visitors coming in via searches such as Google.

You may not really know why they have exactly. However, that renewed attention may lead you to wonder if it could use a “repost.” Those work best, really, if the original was not “timely” and based on some particularly current issue, and especially if newer followers may have missed it the first time.

So why not? I posted this lighthearted piece back on Saturday, March 1, 2014. Now, as for today, October 2, 2015, have a good Friday…. wherever you are in the world. :-)

Originally posted on R. J. Nello:

Intriguing web page that was shared with me yesterday:

17 signs your soul belongs in France

As with most such lists, some observations – even if trite – should ring a bell:

4. You can spot Americans in France from a mile away. They’re wearing a t-shirt, and probably speaking English loudly, as if the reason they’re not being understood isn’t the language barrier but that they’ve yet to make themselves sufficiently audible. Also, they’re likely smiling. Who does that?

It’s Saturday, so whether you are American, or not, let’s, uh, risk a smile.

* * *

Reading that paragraph, Woody Allen films immediately jump to mind; but noting Americans’ distinctive national attire while traveling abroad is not all that new. That said, another giveaway, on men over “age 55,” is they are wearing white sneakers, blue jeans, and a baseball cap (sometimes with the name of a…

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