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time to walk the dinosaur. where's its leash?
08/30/2009 = 07:53 AM

Lately, I'm seeing posts from some of my blogfriends saying they don't have time both to write and to live in The Real World, so they're hanging up the writing.

I don't have that luxury. I might not have time to post a public blog every day, but I write something every day, and for me to say I don't have time both to write and to live in The Real World would feel akin to my saying "I don't have time for both respiration and circulation, so I'm going to quit breathing."

Which is not to imply that I have anything of interest to report. I just have to do the thing with the typing and the inspiration and the hoping for the best but preparing for a pile of random words that mean nothing.

I think the following paragraph is a fine example:

I am considering getting my toenails painted red, orange, brown, blue, and green, then having the letter "m" airbrushed in white onto them. I fluctuate between thinking this is a completely lame idea and going, "YES! I WANT M&M TOES!"

(Look at the bright side. You get that from me for free. You pay taxes to get random shit you don't understand from your elected government officials.)

In other non-news (way to segué), I think I have finished migrating all my feeds from Bloglines to Google Reader. Bloglines was awesome when it was the only game in town, but it seems to have jumped every shark in the geekiverse with its mere inception and never made any palpable (Why, yes, I did say "palpable," and furthermore, you didn't. I believe the term I want now would be "neener") efforts to evolve as time progressed around it.

And while I do agree with Doug Snyder at Replay, who always said, "If the technology still works, I don't throw it away," referring to vinyl records and turntables, Bloglines is doing that thing where the records skip sometimes so you have to balance a penny on the arm, and the speakers don't always work unless you give them a good thump, and there doesn't seem to be a vendor anywhere who carries replacement needles.

I have just completely confused those same readers who don't realize that Tom Hanks' career began with him wearing a wig, panty hose, lipstick, and fake boobs on a sitcom. Old Golf Widow is old.

I shall try a new analogy. Adapt, adopt, and improve.

Bloglines appears to be trying to put its pants on quietly and leave whilst I am sleeping, so I am waking up first, handing it some cabfare, and saying, "I have to go to Google Reader. There's coffee if you want it, but I think I used up all the hot water. Lock the door behind you when you go, 'kay?"

And that, you understood, you little whippersnappers. Your mothers would be ashamed of you.

Oh, wait. My mother might be ashamed of me, too. Um. I saw it in a movie once, Mom.

Tags: writing

drinking: coffee
listening to: The Artist Formerly Known as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince and Now Currently Known as Prince Again, Dance 4 Me
why i don't just call him prince: because life is too short not to take the silly road