Subject: My face is straight. So is my spine.
From: Tim O'Connor (oconnort@nyu.edu)
Date: Sat Jun 29 2002 - 13:50:23 EDT
Thanks, to several people who (publicly and privately) said kind
words about my approach to moderating this list. In fact, based
on recent events, I will shortly modify the "welcome" message as
it is sent to new subscribers, and as it appears on the web site
to browsers. I will be turning my attention to matters of what,
essentially, is "appropriate" for sending to this list.
That message you now see is entirely a first draft, and does not
reflect the several years' worth of experience in running things
as they currently run. More or less, it is safe to say that the
revision will rather explicitly address the issue of digressions
that emerge from time to time. (Someone -- Jim, perhaps -- beat
me to the punch on this; when this has happened in the past I've
always quoted directly from CATCHER, "Digression!": in a kind of
winking manner, to show I know I am digressing, in the manner in
which it happens in Holden's class. As long as it doesn't put a
person's eye out, or does not unduly delay things or cause silly
traffic jams of insane mail volume, I have no problem with it. I
even silently cheered the several remarks that suggested or said
outright that some of the most interesting messages were those a
person might label "off-topic." I happen to agree. I had plenty
of overly zealous nuns in my childhood -- nunzamok -- so that in
my present world I do not want to replicate that experience of a
"SSSSSSHHHHHH" followed by a SMACKING sound: not on this list. I
think digression is fine, as long as it doesn't *interfere* with
other discussion. If it does, then I might gently ask those who
are doing it to get a room somewhere, though (I hope) never in a
sense that seems punitive.)
Those who wonder about the word "nunzamok," a few lines above: I
refer you to Cecilia (who is invited to comment as much as or as
little as she wishes), who knows, reasonably well, my sentiments
on those who dwell among us in the guise of nuns. She knows the
dangers of reaching a state of *nunz-a-poppin*, a rare condition
in which one finds oneself inundated by nuns. Well ... rare for
some of us, less so for the unfortunate ones.
This does not refer to the character known to us as Sister Irma,
who is a wholly owned subsidiary of J.D. Salinger, and, as such,
is immune to condemnation, given that she was automatically made
into an instant saint. (Copyright JDS, All Writes Reserved. And
All Rights, too.)
Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying that while everyone's
concern about the problems of off-topic messages is touching, it
is not, in my opinion, presently a problem, and I intend to keep
that light hand of moderation in place; this is despite the wry,
insincere, apology I myself recently sent out, in which I made a
slight and unapologetic reference to "Casablanca." I thought it
might calm the waters. I might as well have fed chum to sharks.
All I can say is that I am grateful that you didn't actually get
to the point of KILLING each other over it, a blessing for which
I suppose we can thank the Internet -- which manages to keep our
subscribers from each other's throats, more or less.
I constantly underestimate your bloodthirsty natures.
But on that topic, now, the less said, the better.
*
I am writing this to you from the rather unusual (for me) locale
of Iceland, where I am working with Dave Eggers to correct a new
problem that has caused his hair to lose its curl. The problem,
at its most pressing, threatens the production of the next issue
of his quarterly magazine, McSweeney's. Since a delay like that
would be dismaying to the world of letters, I felt that I had no
choice but to borrow a curling iron and board the fastest flight
to Reykjavik, where the magazine is produced.
I regret that we do not seem to have "bananafish" subscribers in
Iceland -- to my knowledge, anyhow -- but if you are hiding out,
and you would like to say hello, please call the Hotel Borg, the
number of which is (354) 551 14 40, and ask to speak with me, by
name (which is, oddly enough, "Tim O'Connor"), and perhaps I can
buy you a drink, or some local wool. (You choose.)
I expect regular Internet connectivity in the next port of call,
which is Paris, where for several days I will be attending a big
conference: it is a worldwide gathering of moderators of mailing
lists called "bananafish," and I hope to glean information to be
directly applicable to the operation of this list. I appreciate
any luck you might extend my way.
Meanwhile, put down those knives and use pencil sharpeners as an
acceptable type of substitute, please! No bloodshed on the list
proper, or my ISP will raise the price I pay. OK? Many thanks.
Also, meanwhile, say your prayers for Dave's hair. The future of
independent publishing as we know it is on the line, at the very
least -- and I know we have more than a few subscribers here who
receive that offbeat quarterly. For those who need drastic hits
from Eggers-land, visit http://www.mcsweeneys.net for your needs
and your McSweeney's requirements.
Cheers and best loving regards.
I remain,
missing NYC,
--tim o'connor
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