Well, here’s a self-toast to finally making up my mind on the “presentation theme” of my brand new wordpress blog. I hope to press words often here. I opted for “Supposedly Clean” because it reminds me of a great song by Outkast- So Fresh and So Clean Clean, which led me into a quick visual of Andre 3000 and the genius blogs he’d create.
In hindsight, I’d like to mention right here that I got pretty wrapped up with writing this entry, in fact, I became a mad scientist somewhere in the middle of it. You are welcomed to take any of this information as Awesome Truth, which is highly suggestable and actually kind of turning me on, but I’m not beggin for Change. I just started…blogging down, wordpressin’-if you will. <p>
I have to hand it over to you guys, this blog-city makes setting up a joint fairly easy. I’m not so used to having such a useful FAQ though, or so many presentation themes with such inspiring titles. I was even charmed by the one simply labeled “Neat!”<p>
Yes, this is pretty neat. Certainly more “freshy” than the choices available on my myspace blog. Livejournal is catching up and all, but they just seem kind of reactive in that weak, marketing way you sometimes see when people, like childhood stars, start to realize that they are has beens or sell outs. <p>
It’s interesting to feel like such an old hat at online journaling. I’ve been blogging since circa 2003. <p>
I remember that crazy high/fear of blogging that newbies to the internet often feel-the “a million people could see what I’m saying” sensation. I remember sitting down and staring at that blinking line, waiting for me to type a character. Waiting for me to come up with something so world bending that the million people that would read my blog would cry, hug, and raise their fists for a most excellent revolution.<p>
Or worse, perhaps the blinking line was simply waiting to expose me and my standardized bullshit, unoriginal at best and contrived at worst. I was, to borrow from wordpress.com’s blog theme vernacular, unsleepable. That seems like a good word for it. I stayed up way too long trying to conquer my fear of public speech. Typing a few sentences, backspacing, running my fingers through my hair, checking out who’s up on my AIM list. What a riot. I was a Post Slug.<p>
Eventually, I just typed at the computer. A stream of pretty words that meant absolutely nothing. I felt so silly. All of my friends would laugh. Though, looking back, lots of my friends were writing some pretty ridiculous posts concerning their indie-soap operas. We college folk can surely turn a Jerry Springer tale into an artfully epic tale of the best of times, the worst of times. <p>
But really, when you think about it? That Jerry Springer scene, when Jamie Jay picks up the chair and directs it at his two timing brother with the unkempt mustache? <p>
In that very moment, as the crowd gasps in unison and the security guard runs to block him? As the other guests on stage run for cover?<p>
We all want to throw a chair at something. Jamie Jay’s chair was a physical one and directed at a very physical source. His point was conveyed with no possibility for misinterpretation.<p>
For many of us with a strong desire to write, to gain respect and recognition, to be heard– the point we are trying to convey isn’t so obvious. <p>
We, bloggers of the world unite, paint our own Jamie Jay scenes with sarcasm and unusual adjectives, make ya think links, and gorgeous pauses relayed through one two many ellipses periods …….<p>
We spend a considerable amount of effort letting you know that we are smart, we are respectable, and we are hella effing interesting. We are passionate about this particular set of laws, we are walking on water in this never before seen brand of love, we are dangerously close to finding the cure for cheap wine hangovers, soul cancer and adderall addiction and you have never been this sad, scene, or fuckable in your life.<p>
But the thing is, with our forces combined, we really are Captain Planet. With as much tripe as we tend to put up on the web, we are creating a voice with more cadence than any great leader ever could, or will. Like a clever 6 year old with too much koolaide in his bloodstream, our collective online voice doesn’t even know how smart it is-or how poignant are the answers its giving freely. I’m surely going over the top here, but I’m really into this now, HA. <p>
Bloggers are different, the way teen films meant it in the 80’s.<p>
A football player named Tim wishes for the courage to stand up against his father who expects him to follow tradition and go to Princeton. Tim secretly wants to be a…dancer, whatever.<p>
We are the muses of which gives Tim the courage to do that. Why? Because we were different, even at the cost of popularity points and in the face of gang melvining. We couldn’t help it. We couldn’t be like them if we tried with all of our might.<p>
Through various events that usually involve Tim being peer pressured into a joke concerning a dance, Tim falls hardcore for the future blogger because she is totally rebelling this town.<p>
But, had we been blessed with the social cues to fit in, we wouldn’t have the seats in the audience that watches the theater of life. We guffaw at life just like Jerry’s audience guffawed at Jamie Jay and his Chair of Doom. But, alas, we envy his ability to be listened to.<p>
So, we blog.<p>
Humans organize data continously.The more data that is collected, the better understanding we have on the way people and things work. It makes it easier to think of ways to make stuff work better.<p>
Fear is a natural reaction to things we can’t figure out, or haven’t had proper education on, or is a proven threat. Death is a prime example. Another good example would be a racist woman living in a small town of which she has only been exposed to the black culture via the negative words of her father, who based his views on those of HIS father, and etc.<p>
Xenophobia can be simply explained as our biological alarms ringing for more information so we can process whether or not the subject before us is a friend or a foe. Its preservation of self, family, society-we organize data a certain way until we gain enough proof to reorganize.<p>
I see all of these hate groups throwing chairs, and their arguments are embarrassingly weak. I see religons pinned against eachother that are breathing in rhythm of the same mythology, a story of parables to inspire people to keep surviving. Jerry Springer, a fitting paradigm for the media at large, working with the governments that acts as tardy bodyguards. The audience gasps and blogs on.<p>
I wonder about the bible, about the era of Jesus, etc etc. I wonder, if blogging would have been available to the people of those times, what they would have said about those events?<p>
I wonder about the authors of history books, about the way stories are communicated among people and families and generations.
Because, due to the birth of the internet and the massive trend of blogging, perhaps there will be less confusion for later generations to experience. They’ll be able to an archive of thousands of media archives, and millions of individual accounts of the events that held historical signifigance.<p>
I might seem like an optimist, but I can’t see that as a bad thing.<p>
Blogging is giving people a chance to rev up, inspire, change, inform, piss off, and piss on a gasping audience. Perhaps, when enough chairs are thrown into the great Wherever at the great Whoever, we’ll begin to have some idea of what happens After We Get Over It. Perhaps mega-blogging is in order, with an even more intimidating but necessary blinking line. <p>
That’s pretty much an amazing thing, to see the birth of a library that gives accessibility to what the People Said Back Then. To watch the hobby of online writing go from being a community of techs, then on to every facet of education, and all of the radio nerds and on and on until…..<p>
Jamie Jay’s ex wife, you remember-she cheated on him with his BROTHER, whaa- is sitting at her mama’s desk, just getting the hang of simple html code for her new myspace page that boasts her rebel attraction to Angelina Jolie and the color purple. She’s so tickled with this idea of god-knows-who might see her myspace page. She keeps checking to see if she’s got more friends requests, what other cool stuff her cousin put up on her own page, etc. She just keeps fiddling with the whole thing, trying to figure it out. She starts to just browse profiles by degrees away from the few on her list. <p>
You may know of this process of myspace hypnosis. <p>
So, Jamie’s ex wife, living at home with her mother since she dumped brother one to be dumped by brother two, continues toying with myspace for hours on end. Her eyes, mainly focusing on profile picture to “about me” area to friends list to profile picture- click, suddenly shifts rhythm when she sees the blog section on the upper right of the page. A vague section that’s easy to miss when you aren’t internet savvy and in myspace hypnosis, its simply the least shiny area of everyone’s profile. <p>
She’s not familiar with the word blog, but after clicking on to the powder blue page of one Anthropology majors journal, she gets the point. She goes back to her own page and looks through what little is said about how blogging works and tries to customize it. Eventually, settling on a fire red background and black Times New Roman, she feels satisfied that she has attained a well rounded understanding of the underground rabbit holes of myspace.<p>
Inspired by the Anthropology majors report on her trip to San Francisco, the ex wife bites her lip and thinks about how she always felt that when the time was right, she’d be in a good place to tell her own inspiring story. She’s just been waiting around to get out of this town, something.<p>
Clicking on “new post”, she comes to a blank screen with a blinking line strobing in the upper left corner. She wonders what they’ll think, the million people that might read. She tries to make it good.
On a separate note, if you’ve gotten this far:
A Love Note For Andre 3000
Andre, you fascinate me and I want you to know, if you ever read this? I would totally let you do me upside down or inside the mouth, slipping on the undulating tongue of a giant Killer Dragon that’s only in it for the mega power that his alien race derives from permitting such events. That’s right, Andre 3000, giant Killer Dragon mouth sex to fuel the ineffable power of an alien race that maybe is, maybe ain’t, holding a vendetta against planet earth. And that’s extra amazing because I mainly only have really cool looking lesbian sex with white girls that are equally as attractive as me and are willing to call me…oh, that’s kind of embarrassing. I make them call me Fred Sanford.
Softly Speaking Pirate Eyes 