blogging about blogging

somehow, between my excessive whining about girls, writing an e-mail, and trying to work on philosophy paper that is due tomorrow, i've found time to make a bit of a blog post; either that or i'm just an idiot.

yeah, i'm an idiot.

anyways, i was just looking at my sidebar there, the one with the links to blogs that have readers and whatnot, and was thinking that i should highlight why they're there. if there's one thing i like more than enjoying something all by my lonesome self, its showing it to other people, so they can get excited about it too.

here goes:

blog heroes?
should be self explanatory. heroes. who blog. or bloggers who've become my heroes. you get the idea.

Neil Gaiman -- haven't yet read Anansi Boys, but i'm sure i will one day, when orchards bloom, and the air is soft, like a baby's blanket, and time for pleasure-reading is abundant like wild berries in summer. as for now, i take Gaiman's writing in pill-form; not quite the luxuriant breakfast that they show on the side of cerial boxes, but still a good way to get your eight essential vitamins, when that's all you have time for...

girish -- excellent, excellent writer. friend from real life, too. mostly a movie blog these days, with some MP3 audioblogging thrown in for good measure: always a good read, and always an educational experience. but, more than anything, and excellent, inspiring, solid writer. girish fits words together like chain links, and his sentances are jointed, angular and strong. check out his dialogues (my personal favorites: conversations with my mom). girish, as far as i know, is one of the first people on the net to institute synchroblogging. it all started with the ten year anniversary of the release of Showgirls. go figure. :)

Overheard Lines -- "Things actual people actually said, captured by an eavesdropping playwright in San Francisco named Tim (or his spying friends)." this description modestly leaves out one other thing: pure genius. Tim's are usually the best, and what makes them so funny is the one-two punch of quote, coupled with it's title. some say the best way to read them is to read the quote first, and the title second; i think you should go there and find out for yourself.

A Softer World -- a three panel photopoem, really, and not so much a blog. i didn't figure that out exactly until after i'd linked to it, and i'm too lazy to change it now. sometimes hysterically funny, sometimes strikingly something else. they've really got a range of things going on here. it is like watching someone sneak up and tear off the bedsheets of a lovemaking couple, mid-coitus.

Progressive Ruin -- a comic book blog, from Mike Sterling. yeah, i don't know who Mike Sterling is either; but he works at a comic-shop, runs a blog, and is funny as hell.

dooce.com -- cliche, you say? the widest read blog on the web, you say? yes, cliche. like Shakespeare is cliche. and if you think Shakespeare is cliche, you're a dolt. that is how i feel about Heather. she's got it all: moving, funny, gross, crude, beautiful, naked. she's a great writer. she's often at her best when she's writing either about her daughter, Leta, or poop. my hand to God. imagine how great it is when the two topics come together for a cosmically amazing post? it does not get any better.

Paul Dini, the King of Breakfast -- i'm not sure why he's the King of Breakfast, but seriously, this guy could be the King of whatever-the-hell-he-wants in my book. things he has worked on, for which he gets mad props: He-Man, and the Masters of the Universe. Batman: the Animated Series (anyone ever seen the episode "Almost Got 'em"?......the best 22 minutes of cartoon you may ever watch), the oversized Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Justice League comic books, painted by Alex Ross. just to name a few things. oh, yeah -- he was also a co-writer for "Lost".......

Broken Glass Makes Me Laugh -- yes, it makes me laugh too. sometimes a comic blog, sometimes pop-culture reflection, sometimes just musings on life chocolate coated with good ol' fashioned north-of-the-border wit that us folks in the states just eat up. Davinder always brings it.

the first rule of blogging... -- if you're curious about what that rule is, go visit Keest's blog. i will give you a hint though: i am breaking that rule right now. what can i say about keest? her phrasecraft is top-shelf scotch; i can't get enough. like the dearly departed John Spencer, as Leo McGarry, once said about alcholism: how can you not want to feel like this all the time? which is why i get the shakes when keest neglects her blog...still....her writing is fragrant with wit and talent, and its got teeth. go check her out. as a favor to me. you won't be disappointed.

Hellboy Animated -- how often do you get an inside look at something this cool? i know i may be the only cartoon guy in the vicinity, but this promises to good stuff; sci-fi, animation, and suspense all at its best. and you get to watch it all come together, before your very eyes. it is a gift from Tetragrammaton Jehovah, as far as i'm concerned.

TokyoBlog -- oh my GOD. such a great idea, so wonderfully executed. just take a look, it is outrageously charming and good. a new favourite of mine. read it. so neat.


ok, you go read those, and lemme know what you think. i'll write about the next set while you're gone.

white barracuda

in case you hadn't noticed, there was a flurry of flaming blow-out postings attached to my last blog entry. if you're looking for action, i'll furnish the spot; even when the heat is on, its never too hot. its good for a laugh, its a good time, and vicious writing is fun to read. so read it; its me at my meanest, in case you're interested in what that looks like.

my gutless, faceless, nameless friend raises this point: i should either be proud of my self-absorbed singleness, or do something about it [instead of whining].

ok. yes, agreed, the one or the other is an ultimate end. but do i really need to qualify the difficulty of achieving that ultimate end? it mystifies me, that i should have to.

i'm not going to actually; for people who've never felt a tug of indecision, there is no explanation that will make sense. for those who have never felt divided over anything, there is no sufficient reasoning that they can follow. how do you explain the desire for what you know you should not have? how do you explain the conflict with one's own self?
you can't, really.
you get it or you don't.
so i'm not going to try.
but here is a story:
i had a dream last night, about my highschool crush, and i don't know why. and with dreams, there is always and only the "why." at its edges, the dream is scrubbed out and faded. i remember running into her, meeting her again -- my presently charming self fending off the darkness of awkward conversation like a road flare -- all the brightness of smiles were between us, and there was none of the discomfort of the last time i had seen her in person: a group of Amherst grads collected themselves at the Cozumel, and though it would have never happened in school, the way things change after time, i found myself insinuated into a shared social circle. i felt my face go white when i saw her there; it took a half hour and a few bourbons before i could work up the courage to face my fear of her. i managed to wrangle her attention for an awkward ten minutes of clunky conversation. i didn't handle it well, but i made it out the other side. i tried to look normal, to be normal. i felt bad that she had to talk to me, that i had used her awakwardly to face my own demons, that i had attached demons to her in the first place. she'd never done anything to me except look beautiful. i should not have really spoken to her, but it was one of those things you just had to do. medicine, you know. tastes like shit; you have to drink it. afterwards, drunkenly, i was proud of myself. if nothing else, i got to make her a little more human.

last night i met her again, in a hallway, and there was no dark cloud of pubescent clumsiness. it was a school hallway, and i saw her and she saw me and did not dread my approach. there was only smiling, and lightheartedness, and she was wearing an iPod and a backpack. i talked to her about music, and she told me about fake obscure bands with dream names that played music i didn't think a jazz saxophonist would be interested in, in real life. she asked me if i had heard of any of them and i smiled, as we crouched at the seam of the wall and the floor, between two doorways, and i told her that i would check them out. she asked me if i had ever heard of White Barracuda, and i shook my head no. and later, our conversation was done and we parted happily and the only sadness was the wish that real life could be something like this.

she is engaged, now. and would be horrified to know that i still (or ever have) thought, dreamt, or wrote about her; i wouldn't blame her, really.

you can't make an Idol of someone; it isn't fair. but i have made one of her, and the ultimate proof is that i still dream about her. she is a symbol, and not a person -- a symbol of unrequited affection, of unfulfilled desire -- a symbol, ultimately, of my own shortcomings. i was not socially adept in highschool; i was not cool, i was not athletic, i was not attractive. i was a loner. part of that was my own fear of entering the bizarre social world of highschool -- i did not try to make friends or attempt to join in. i excluded myself. but i also never felt good enough -- i did not merit the attention of my crush; thus, i never had the attention of my crush.

i never had a girlfriend, or a first kiss, until i was eighteen. i never really had anything mutual with any girl until then. unless you count the girl down the street when i was three.

this is how women become notches in a man's bedpost -- to be able to "have" with ease something that you were never before considered worthy of having -- it is a rush of power, of pride. there is a world of women at my feet; marriagable, datable. fuckable. a complete spectrum, ultra-violet to infra-red, whose interest in me only goes to illumine my ego, to feed it; to prop the crumbling edifice of my self-esteem.

it is natural, to want to be with somebody, to want a someone to belong to. it is a beautiful thing to see someone find it.

it is also natural to use people to feel better about yourself...but it is also wrong. and its a terrible basis for a relationship. you can't build your self esteem on a relationship, however deep or shallow, and you can't build a relationship on your own self esteem. you can't use people to massage your ego. you can't get anyone else to untie the knots of your own heart. its a disservice to their love. its a disservice to yourself. and i want to stop ruining the people who love me, and try to figure out how to be better.

i am better when i'm single. i can handle being single. but i am not proud of being single, i am not proud of my self-absorption.

there is a girl that i want to be mine, but i know i should not be allowed to have her. not until something in me changes -- changes for good, for me and no one else. i can do something about it then.

until then, i'm going to keep denying myself, trying to convince myself. i am going to keep finding reasons not to have a girlfriend.

i am going to keep whining.
deal with it.

reasons not to have a girlfriend: reason #5

its (st.) valentine's day...what better way to celebrate than with yet another reason why i should not have a girlfriend?

was it last night? was it this morning? i don't remember...it may have been while i was shaving...you know, those innocuous moments when barbed thoughts come creeping on their elbows, commando style...and the thought is sometimes overpowering enough to be all that you remember of the moment...time and place disappear....

anyway, it was one of those moments, and again, this thought came sneaking in: if i had money, i would probably be married by now. and yes, i know i've hashed out money as a reason not to have a girlfriend in a previous post, but money isn't always as simple a subject as we'd like to make it sometimes.

i'd be in a relationship at least, if i had money, and this is why: it would be easier. money greases wheels. money gives you the option of being generous. money does all of those things i think i've already put more eloquently before and won't bore you with repeating now. at any rate, its no secret: i wish i had money, because of all of the things i would be able to give.

nice thought.

and what load of bullshit. even as it rings just a little bit true -- financial stability is obviously a nice thing -- it is the biggest cop-out-crock of shit.
the real problem is that i love me too much; i am selfish with me. i am my number one. and having money would make it easier to care for someone else, because i wouldn't have to put as much time or thought into it.

the real problem is reason #5 why i can't have a girlfriend:
i want to give what i don't have because i am incapable of giving what i do have.

i'm not here, this isn't happening

sorry, folks, if you don't hear from me for awhile. if you know why, you know why. if you don't: e-mail me.

til next time.