What is new about weblogs?

What’s new here is that anyone can publish. No thought required about the format, about FTP clients. Just open a webpage, type into a box, and click. Bango! You’re published. This means that …

This makes web-publishing as easy as surfing, or operating a television. Your mama could do it. That means it’s easy.

In addition, now we get the smarty-pants, the artsy, the web designers. Suddenly they’re artistes. They can tweak and twitter, and all the world is aglow in the bask of their friends, and wine. No doubt. This is a fine feeling. I may sneer, but wouldn’t I go back to college age — just for an hour — and experience the richness of the emotions among my peers, the admiration, the fun? Of course I would. You would too. Don’t lie. You know you would.

So the point is: these young ones get all artsy, and by golly, here’s the truth: This is a new creative outlet! It’s a new outlet in three ways. You can have beautiful layouts. You can have cool pix. You can write with beauty and style.

If you got no style, you can scour for cool stuff and post that. Sort of getting your admiration by being the most clever scavenger-hunter in the group. You remember that from 5th grade, don’t you? Scavenger hunts?

This is something new. It will grow like topsy.

Lesson three. A blog is not reality. It is a construction. Why do birds make nests? Why does a man with a hammer walk around looking for nails sticking up? It is the nature of water to flow downhill.

Make sense? A blog is not reality. Instead …

A blog is a construction. Perhaps it is artistic. Perhaps it blogges at bloggy time. It’s well known that it steam-engines at steam-engine time. This might be the same thing.

The blog is a construction. This means you can cheat. E Pluribus Zample …

Spozin you had nothing to say? Today. No problemo. This is the perfect time to soak in the rich bath of memory, savoring the scent of a madelaine cookie, in remembrance of things past. Now’s the time for Looky Back. Just dredge and repeat, dredge and repeat. In no time there’s your post for today.

Now I have an advantage over some of you whipper-snappers — as my Grandfather would deem ye, I reckon — and that advantage is that I am 59. What does this mean? It means there is plenty of the good stuff lying around on my time-track. I’m as littered with good stuff as crates of contraband litter the smuggler’s cave.

What else? You can move time forward and back. So what if you had the funny conversation at the dentist on Tuesday. Need material for Wednesday? Slide that puppy around! As Julia Child says (in context of dropping the fancy dinner onto the kitchen floor) “Who’s to know?”

What’s what I say. What say you?

San Anselmo: Adrienne is a very patient woman. This is good, for her patience is sometimes tried. By Tulip’s barking, Percy‘s attacking her foot, my snoring. For example.

Sometimes she will say, “One of these days I’m going to have a real bedroom that’s quiet, like a real person.” For example.

I’ve been thinking about this real person …

These days, we enjoy Sunday pancakes and omelettes at Two Bird cafe. On our drive home, I inquired to learn more about this real person. Here is what I have learned …

A real person lives in a nice house, with adequate nice grounds around the house, and the house is well-maintained. The real person has lots of time for fun projects, playing with the dog, and has help around the nice house.

The real person drives a decent car. It might not be new, but it needs no body work, and it’s clean. You don’t have to struggle with the shift lever. You never need to worry about this car, because nothing is broken.

The real person has mostly casual clothes, but a few party things, because the real person is invited to parties by friends, and also invited to parties by friends of those friends. With these friends, the real person goes on tours and to dinner.

The real person is not lazy, and works, of course. The real person works about 5-6 hours a day, Monday through Thursday. In order to support this nice house, car, clothes, friends, tours, dinners, and parties, it would seem that the real person would need a take-home pay of about $4500 monthly from this work.

This work could be anything. Whatever a real person wanted to do. For example, it could be dog walking, or something healthy and fun. Now this might not bring in the entire $4500 after-tax income; but, if not, the real person’s partner would chip in.

The real person has a love partner, of course. This other person would also be a real person, because no real person would be with a workaholic. The partner would not be somebody who spent all day in front of a computer, for example.

So the partner, being a real person, also works 3-4 days a week, for somewhat limited hours, and they have time to spend together. I suppose that the partner must bring in even more after-tax dollars, so that the chipping in part works out.

So, now I know, for the first time, what a real person is. I’ve been wondering, and now I know.

Clarity is a wonderful thing.

It is Sunday, and it has been raining. The air is now cold, and the sky is dark in the middle of the day. Tulip, my border collie, shivers. She can hear thunder in the distance, though I cannot. This is a good day for writing a weblog.

Around mid-day I met Joe and Dameon and M&G Burger where we dined sumptuously on burgers and fries. After this light repast, the boys adjourned to the local moviola parlor where we saw trailers for Hulk and Matrix, and our feature film for today, the X-men (2). I’ve not seen (1) but I suppose this is still (2), because Joe and Dameon have seen (1). Pathos and fighting and wierd jumping around all occured in mighty sequence, and a good time was had by all. That’s today snooze.

April 7, 1944. Visilia, California. Margaret Ellen Hurn (army nurse) and Jack French (dashing soldier) hit it off. The resulting human shows up and begins yet another chapter in the vast library of humanity.

Soon after, Margaret visited her parents farm 8 miles north of Henrietta Texas. I see pictures of each of my uncles holding me as an infant. The uncle that looks the happiest in this role is her mother lounged in lawn chairs behind, dressed in stunning, up-to-date 1940’s fashions. That is, somewhat baggy dresses of light material, tending to be covered with tiny, tiny, tiny little prints of flowers and lacy stuff at the collar.

Modern times!

Haw haw haw haw haw!

Just saw mpt, the weblog of Matthew Thomas. I don’t know a thing about this guy — though I might guess his middle name starts with ‘P’ — but the articlse seem mighty fine to me. The stolen quote in my title is his. That makes me remember the time … never mind.

It’s probably time to figure out what traceback and blogrolling mean. Time to find my peerds, or is it my pears? Lotto clever writistas out there; some must be findable.