Interlude 1
Gabe is in a bar. He has some paper and a pen that was stolen from my car.
He seems to be expecting a flash of brilliance that he can put pen and ink to. I hope that he gets his wish.
We did our form of a chat. I talked, he pretended to listen. I am certain that it is a variation of the infamous Gary Larsen "Ginger" cartoon. I think that this time I might have had a slightly greater impact as he actually made eye contact two or three times and nodded his head.Interlude 2:
I guess that I have to take this through on how I manage to get anything written at all, I write because it seems that what scraps of my mental health that remain extant require I do such a mad act fairly regularly.
I tend to use the Blogger interface out of sheer habit. Nothing more, nothing less. I started doing this thirteen years ago and just kept leaving because of Google's intrusiveness and corporate-swinishness, but came back and lit down here because baby, if you are writing regularly on the internet, you are somehow, somewhere feathering someone else's nest. At some point you have to say "what the fuck"
Nearly all of my posts begin the same. Somehow an idea comes to me, whether in the form of a angst fueled rant or a drug-addled observation. This one started as described above. When I was talking with Gabe, I whipped out the primary object in my love-hate relationship with modern technology, the android smart phone. I brought up the Blogger app so thoughtfully provided by the corporate fuckmeisters at Alphabet and typed in "new" gave the post a title and then wrote the first sentence above as a mental placeholder. Hit save and then closed out. This added another piece of wood to my digital woodpile.
Since today is Labor Day, and since I no longer willingly perform any function that could remotely be classified as "labor", retreated to a not-quite local bar with a chromebook and a nice lined notebook, spiffy mechanical pencil and a pen that I lifted from my ex-mother-in-law. I hook up the net, bring up the post that I started the day before and then I start blabbing.
So, at this point this interlude is the product of two (2) four (4) ounce glasses of beer that were once part of a sampler flight. I have had a conversation with a waitress about the current state of peer review in academia, I am listening to a nice selection of blues. Life is pretty damn fine right about now.
So I work and polish for a while. I have four members of the flight needing attention so I won't get too thirsty while writing. The family is heading this for same McMenamins stamps and some light refreshment.
This piece is ready to schedule and add the calligraphy and triagrams for the day.
Monday through Friday, published at 8:00.
I tend to use the Blogger interface out of sheer habit. Nothing more, nothing less. I started doing this thirteen years ago and just kept leaving because of Google's intrusiveness and corporate-swinishness, but came back and lit down here because baby, if you are writing regularly on the internet, you are somehow, somewhere feathering someone else's nest. At some point you have to say "what the fuck"
Nearly all of my posts begin the same. Somehow an idea comes to me, whether in the form of a angst fueled rant or a drug-addled observation. This one started as described above. When I was talking with Gabe, I whipped out the primary object in my love-hate relationship with modern technology, the android smart phone. I brought up the Blogger app so thoughtfully provided by the corporate fuckmeisters at Alphabet and typed in "new" gave the post a title and then wrote the first sentence above as a mental placeholder. Hit save and then closed out. This added another piece of wood to my digital woodpile.
Since today is Labor Day, and since I no longer willingly perform any function that could remotely be classified as "labor", retreated to a not-quite local bar with a chromebook and a nice lined notebook, spiffy mechanical pencil and a pen that I lifted from my ex-mother-in-law. I hook up the net, bring up the post that I started the day before and then I start blabbing.
So, at this point this interlude is the product of two (2) four (4) ounce glasses of beer that were once part of a sampler flight. I have had a conversation with a waitress about the current state of peer review in academia, I am listening to a nice selection of blues. Life is pretty damn fine right about now.
So I work and polish for a while. I have four members of the flight needing attention so I won't get too thirsty while writing. The family is heading this for same McMenamins stamps and some light refreshment.
This piece is ready to schedule and add the calligraphy and triagrams for the day.
Monday through Friday, published at 8:00.
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