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Monday, September 26, 2005
 

linkomania!

**GRRR....Broken links now fixed. Sigh**

Yes, indeed. I failed last night, but I will not fail this evening.

It's time to begin linking.

Now, I've never had much of a sidebar to speak of. No matter how much advice and counsel I receive on how to format the damnable thing, I mess it up each and every time. Even as I say that, I know some of you will make suggestions. Don't bother. I'll just mess it up unless you do it for me.

And to make it worse, someone always stops blogging right after I try and link them. It's a curse! Jill Blevins -- I didn't mean for that to happen! Heh.

And sidebars are funny things, anyhow -- you want to give people your endorsement and affection, but hell -- they might not want it. Some of the people I'd link to seem to disagree with me on everything from politics to religion to sports to modern music, but I think we're all grownup enough to know that there is genius even in the midst of polar diversity! And if they reject me, so be it. I link with pride.

So tonight, I'm going to do my easy-peasy pretend-o sidebar, except I'm going to plant it smack-dab in the middle of the blog. I'm doing a sidebar entry! Isn't that unique? I thought so. Lazy? That too!

Seriously, though -- each and every one of these bloggers, whether we see eye-to-eye or scrap like junkyard dogs, holds a place in my heart for their conviction, for their passion, for their support of my efforts, or purely for their notorious way with the written word. It cannot be denied that they have something to say, and intend to say it.

Let the linking commence!

Chuck Sigars writes at The World According to Chuck. Everyone knows that I'm Chuck's Canadian fangirl, so no one is shocked that I'd link to him. But really -- the man has a corner on humour and the kind of truth that scoops my guts out like a grapefruit spoon. I think we're close to kindred, and also locationally nearby -- he's just down the continent from me.

I adore Liz. And for some mysterious reason, I left that statement alone without a link all night. Not that it's not true, mind you, but still -- the girl deserves a link. Liz is a dear encourager, a wonderful writer, and an old soul with a young heart. Here's where you find her: http://www.livejournal.com/~lizardek/

Wally Blue (is there a better name on earth?) writes at The Resident Curmudgeon. He is SO not a curmudgeon. Rather, he adores his grandkids, and writes about lovely and resonant things, not the least of which (actually the most of which...) is his gorgeous bride Dorothy. Stop by for a taste of gentility.

Scott writes at Sweptover. He is a dad, too, just like the two aforementioned good souls, but his kids are still tadpoles. Scott is a writer with a sure grip on his sense of humour, his faith, and his love for all the wonder in his life. Not only that, but he stepped up to the plate to try and source me out 90's hip hop hits. Could a girl have a better ally?

Karen writes at Bread Crumbs. She is a fine writer, a diligent researcher, and a marvelous friend and blog-supporter. Many of us might have ceased blogging altogether if not for Karen's fine and thoughtful comments. But the best part of having Karen read your blog is that you discover hers. She has many passions, and I'm honoured to get the chance to tap into a few of them through her words.

Nancy writes at Now You Listen Here, which is one of the finest blog titles of our time. Nancy and I began our blogs within mere seconds of one another, and it's been a joy to follow her personal and passionate writing through the travails of her well-lived life. Now that she is Alien-bearing, we get to share in a whole new set of joys along with her.

Mike writes at Chew Toys, and holds the award for the most swearing in my blog comments. This is a man as dedicated to his politics as he is to a good joke. He's also a fabulous supporter of the blogworld in general, and has kept me tarrying away at my own blog with his comments when I thought no one else was reading. He claims his blog is content-free, but I'm sure George W. would argue otherwise!

If you go to Feral, you can grab both Sam's magnificent essays and observations and the wild musings of the Notorious Dr. O. Sam has a magnificent writerly voice and eye for beauty and detail, and Dr. O is entirely dedicated to both activism and art. A fine find.

Everyone knows Birdie, and Birdie holds court at Beauty Dish. She is a brilliant storyteller, a kickass mom, and a Star Trek and Avon expert -- she may well be the only person I know who could weave those two worlds together with ease. It's a delight to read and hear her, and if you don't stop by, you might well be the only person in North America not to do so!

Morgan writes at http://morgannels.org/blog/. He is one of the reasons I bought a Mac -- everything he does with his seems so elegant! Morgan is a deep thinker, a witty writer, and an artistic soul who expresses himself with clarity and compassion. Worth a look, if only to try and find the haiku.

Liz writes at Are We There Yet, and writes some of the most thoughtful, heart-searching essays I've come across online. She also has a lovely husband who walks with her through some very tough times. I never escape Liz's blog without being touched in some way -- her vulnerability is a challenge to my own reserve.

Dick Jones is the author at Dick Jones' Patteran Pages (what a coincidence!). I feel cool every time I read Dick's blog, mostly because he IS the epitome of coolness. He is musical, dramatic, educational, thoughtful, poetic, and has a tremendous family. His children (grown and tadpole) are gorgeous, and his wife Emma glows like the archetypical English Rose. I never miss out on reading the Patteran pages, unless Dick is internet-deprived. No more of that, sir!

Natalie writes at Blaugustine. She is both a stellar writer and a magnificent artist. She combines both into one of the most endearing and thoughtful blogs on the web. I am never left without ideas to consider and things to feel after a visit there.

Kate writes 'Broken Windows' at http://blogs.salon.com/0002967. She is a tremendous writer, full of passion, fire and intensity. When I grow up, I want to be able to command that kind of force into my words. Kate challenges me on my views every time I read her, and spurs me on to be less of a watcher than a doer, in every realm of life.

Andrew writes at Bread and Circuses. His observations are just as fiery as Kate's, but they are cloaked in some of the driest wit on the web. Not only does he research his politics, but he discusses the arts, too. Bread and Circuses also features quotes that zing me without fail, and some of the most useful mp3 linking imaginable.

Jan writes at Secular Blasphemy. I think he exists on this earth so that I may argue with him and dispute (miserably, and without success) his extensive blogging reasearch. For all the disagreeing we might do on politics, I can see clearly that this is a man with a wicked and irreverent sense of humour. Not only that, but every time he links to me, my hits explode like firecrackers in fall air.

Mark does it all at Fried Green Al Quaedas. I have snarfed my coffee at his satire more times than I care to count. He's wicked, wicked, wicked, and we wouldn't have him any other way. And he's okay with my crush on Joey Stark. Mark is also the only photo editor on earth who can make me look photogenic -- and that, folks, is a rare talent.

Frances! Frances is my commenter with the ideas! Wacky ideas, sometimes, but the girl just buoys me with her enthusiasm for everything and anything. She blogs at Good Bloggin', and is a well of joy and fire and passion for every single thing she does. I swear, I won't be as quick with a quip if I live to be 100.

Drew writes at Steel Cowboy. He is a lovely, thoughtful, deeply spiritual man with an eye for the simple and beautiful things in life. He adores his family and never fails to be an encouragement. Not only that, but the name of his blog makes me think of Bon Jovi: "I'm a cowboy....on a steel horse I ride...." Who can get enough of Bon Jovi!?

Bonnie writes at Wandering Willow. Her travel journals make me want to get away from it all, but her encouragements and musings make me want to stay close. Also, make sure you find your way to her wonderful hubby's photoblog! Not to be missed!

Flat writes at (drum roll) The Compleat Flat. This is a man as committed to peace as he is to a good joke. He accused me of crimes against memes, but I think we both know who has the killer blog, no?

Patia, Patia, Patia....she writes at montana mUsings. She has a tremendous eye for beauty, simplicity, irony and grace, and knows her way around a word or two. Her photos are treats for the ocular orbs, and her wit is a delight. That, and she is a force of nature. Which is why she's in Montana -- the girl needs the whole sky to light up.

Phil writes at Perils of Caffeine in the Evening. Even as I just typed that, I craved coffee. Phil is another blogger who lives relatively nearby, and knows all the same West Coast stuff that I do. Except he's much smarter and a much better storyteller. He cracks me up, and his comments are some of my most cherished blogmemories.

Neva writes at Neva, Miss Feva. She is another one with fire, convictions, and the wickedest wit in the West. Neva was one of the first blogs I ever came across, and I just wanted to be that cool and well-read and smart and stuff. Someday.

Clotilde tantalizes my tastebuds at Chocolate and Zucchini. Oy. I want to eat this blog. Enough said.

Michael writes at his Journal. He is a poet, an astute reviewer, an activist at heart, and one of the most grounded and thoughtful members of the Salon community. A treat.

Jack pens poetry, satire and stuff that makes me spray tea into the air with endless spittakes at Peeling Wallpaper. What more can be said? The story about people who talk too loudly outside of hotel rooms nearly gave me an asthma attack at work today. For reals.

Okay -- I think I need to cut this off for the night. Tomorrow, Monty, Hugh, Blue Sky, Tom, Tim and many many more. Tomorrow, we try and convince Carroll to blog. Tomorrow, we talk about why I still blog. And tomorrow -- a guest blog from my beloved friend Catherine!

Stay tuned for Pt. 2 of my PRETEND SIDEBAR! Remember, when you visit these people, you are a Blogcabin Ambassador of Love.

Bring the joy -- or else!


9:04:43 PM    well, yes, but...  []

it's another one of those stories...

When the bus pulled up to the oft-packed stop near where I work tonight, my heart fell.

It was packed. Like a can of sardines. Actually, I think sardines normally have more breathing room.

I climbed the steps and searched for a nook amongst the pressed flesh where I could wedge myself in. An air pocket presented itself next to a young couple that seemed only to be taking up space for 11/2 people.

Ah, love.

She was hanging idly onto one of the overhead straps as they stood, while he gripped the bar above with a more firm hand, and held her upright with his other arm. She leaned into him, secure and at peace, and he kept them stationary.

Or he did, until I got on.

For the rest of the ride, this big, strong, strapping young man proceeded to use me as their personal shock absorber, falling back into me (I had a vice grip with both arms to the railings above, and was trying to protect my iBook-bearing bag from trauma) with each and every stop. The first time he did it, I expected him to turn and apologize, but I guess he figured I looked solid. He just kept bouncing off me like a rookie defenseman in a farm league.

This wasn't very much fun.

Not only was I bearing his weight, but also the "weight of their love" (a.k.a. her body, too.)

But, due to my Canadian heritage and my Protestant unassumingness, I couldn't bring myself to give him a swift elbow to the crotch. I bore the pain until they finally smooched off the coach. This left me slightly more space, and I ended up standing next to an old man who was perched at the edge of his seat, death grip on a knotty wooden cane.

He smiled up at me, and then looked stricken. I did, too, because I knew what was coming.

I've never been one to expect men to open doors and pull out chairs -- not that no one offers, but I never assume chivalry unless it's offered graciously. I've noticed that a lot of men my age and younger pretty much view me as an equal in terms of the niceties they should afford me. What I really mean is that it's rare for them to behave in the classic 'gentlemanly' manner unless they're hitting on me.

This happens less than I'd like.

But men over the age of, say, 45? They are all about the knight-in-shining armour routine. They do the hitting-on thing as well, but we'll just forget about that for now.

This dear old soul had to be 90 if a day, and I knew he wanted to offer me his seat. It was incredibly sweet, but I knew if I took it, and he went to stand, he'd be hitting the floor like the Solid Gold dancers in a matter of seconds.

I also knew he'd be too stubborn to let me refuse. No matter how solid I may appear.

Now, sitting next to him, there was a fellow iPodder -- a guy who looked to be 22 or 23. He was staring into space with particular abandon. I knew my only chance of preventing the old man from standing up was to somehow get this guy to offer me his seat.

I tried telepathy. I tried shifting in his direction, leaving little space between us. I tried clearing my throat.

Nada.

The old guy was reaching for his cane.

If I'd had any guts at all, I'd have done something bright like saying, "Oh, no, sir...this young man was just offering me his seat!" But I lack guts like this man lacked balance, and so the moment had come to somehow try and escape.

So I did. I turned on one flip-flop and said in a hurried tone, "Actually, this is my stop." And then I sprinted for the back doors, taking a moment to reach over another twentysomething boyslug to ring the bell.

I got off the bus.

It was NOT my stop. I didn't even really know where I was. But I knew another bus would be along in ten minutes or so, and that would be easier than performing CPR on that sweet man when he collapsed in the aisle.

I was not alone at this corner, however. Another exceptionally frail old man was standing there, and he proceeded to engage me in polite conversation about the weather and other pleasant and innocuous things.

Sure enough, another bus pulled up in a few minutes, equally packed to the gills as the last one. My heart sank again as the man extended a gracious wave in the direction of the bus, which appeared to have all of one seat empty.

"Please, you first, dear..."


6:30:36 PM    well, yes, but...  []

Last night, I dreamt that my computer would sigh every time I'd mess something up. Finally, I asked it what was wrong. It said:

"No, no. I'm fine."

I said, "But you keep sighing!"

And my computer said, "The first month is always the most difficult."

And I said, "But does it hurt when I screw up?"

And my computer said, "No, no...it's just disappointing."

AAAA!
6:47:43 AM    well, yes, but...  []



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