Like any right-minded, hot-blooded, or God-fearing American that's scared of his own shadow, this weekend's Deadly Porch Collapse got me thinking about the frailty of human life, the disconcerting state of my own porch, and a joke the punchline of which would be something about Al Qaeda flying a plane into the deck. After all, the debacle happened not far from where I live, and one of the poor kids that died is from my hometown. Clearly I'm in the Poor Estimators of Porch Capacity demographic, and should remove the lathe and spinning jenny from my porch just as soon as possible.
It also got me thinking about the state of public education in America. Many of the Deadly Porch Partygoers attended New Trier High School -- a famously excellent public school that was featured in Jonathan Kozol's treatise on public education, "Savage Inequality." I read the book a long time ago, but as I remember the crux of the biscuit is Kozol's comparison of New Trier and East St. Louis. Perhaps I'm easily led, but after a couple hundred pages of discussion on the property tax system and loads of anecdotal evidence, the logical conclusion is that something's pretty well fucked up with this whole school thing. No ideas how to fix it, though. It's a bummer of a book, and well worth a read.
But after the Deadly Porch Collapse, I realize that even the best schools in our country don't teach some of the most basic things, like how many peeps on a porch is too many. That's one lesson only God and gravity can teach. I'm not religious and this shit's why.
Analogcabin @ 1:58 PM ------------------------- In what can only be called a shocking turn of events, the Reverse Cowgirl contacted me about republishing my last missive. It was, admittedly, a cry for attention and a wished for dream, but I don't recall actually submitting it to her. I remember considering it, and I think I remember deciding to take the path of cowardice (familiar and warm, that path.) I suppose there's a chance I did it when I was drunk (familiar and warm, drunk.) Regardless, she thanked me for shitting on her head, which led me to the fit of shame in which I now wallow.
Analogcabin @ 12:33 PM ------------------------- The difficulty with all this is that there's really not much worth writing about.
Analogcabin @ 3:26 PM ------------------------- It is an absurd time when I feel compelled to create a blog as a refuge from my other blog.
Analogcabin @ 8:09 AM -------------------------
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She also asked me to make a couple of changes for clarification. She was right, of course, and I agreed, of course. So what does that tell you about me? I'm a spineless heel who seeks affirmation from strangers, regardless of how hollow the moment of self-confidence that results.
The question remains: If I had a camera phone, is there much doubt that my photos would been anything more worthwhile than Paul Katcher's Coyote Ugly oevre?
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Thursday, June 26, 2003
If the buzz around the irritatingly-nomered "blogosphere" is to be believed, Reverse Cowgirl is one of the more frequently read blogs out there. Now, there's a poorly expressed thought. What I mean to say is that it's popular, though, now that I think about it, I suppose it's possible that it's just frequently read. Who knows by how many people? I'm not real sure how the internet ratings shit works. I'm pretty certain it isn't SoundScan, and even SoundScan isn't SoundScan. So what I mean to say is that I'm fairly sure it's not reliable. Still and all, it's a fair bet she's gets read more often than I do.
A visit to her site and The Reasonable Person can't help but wonder why. I count myself among the legion of occasional visitors, but I can't for the life of me understand the compulsion. Like sex with me, no visit lasts more than fifteen seconds and it's rarely satisfying. She seldom writes anything -- I'd say that the majority of her posts are pilfered images, kind of blah digital camera pictures of mannequins I think she's passing off as "art," and infrequently fascinating links. When she does write, it's as though Demeter has leaned forward on her ivory bidet, reaching down to the mildewed cracks in the grout to offer the teeming masses of boil-skinned adolescents a dribble of ambrosia fermented in her crack.
And I say all of this entirely because I'm bitter about having to submit something to her in hope that she'll deem it worthy to post this week, thereby driving some small number of her ugly, ugly readers into my buttery folds.
So what about me? Here I am, blogging my precious little ass off, loosing my woefully undervalued prose into the ether, and paying for the privilege. Discussion of why my prose is undervalued (the utter lack of clarity in the second paragraph is a decent start...) aside for now, The Reasonable Person has to wonder why again. Why do I do it?
The FCC's recent media consolidation thing and the debate surrounding it accomplished something absolutely absurd. It pushed blogging into the mainstream consciousness, or at least nudged it toward the mainstream consciousness, as an example of "thriving independent journalism." You'd have to be retarded to call even the best blogging journalism, and I'd use "self-obsessed" and "masturbatory" instead of "independent" and "thriving." Which, of course, settles the question of why I do it. Ask anyone that knows me. Go ahead. I'll wait.
OK. So someone who watches the news is sure to say, "Of course the blogging example is stupid -- it's a lame defense of the FCC move by Bush and his fascisto mediareich." Sure. Fine. This isn't about politics. It's about blogging, and the "community" that does shit like giving itself Webby awards, going to hear speakers talk about the social implications of blogging at SXSW, and weeping about dot com jobs gone by. When it was CB radio, at least they didn't arrange award shows.
In the beginning, we were all losers. Then some buddy from college hired us to do nothing for a company that did nothing, then it fell apart, now we have nothing, so we write about nothing to no one. See how it comes full-circle? The snake eats its tail, the dog licks its own heinie.
I added that dog heinie part because its sexual and provocative, and I'm in Rome, so I'm doing the Roman thing.
All that having been said, you shouldn't expect me to have a real point. I do it, I want a Webby, and yesterday I included a link from one of my blogs to the other one just so that I had an incoming link. High school must've been worse for me than I realize.
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Wednesday, June 25, 2003
This, like all things, begins with the best intentions. And, like most things, it will probably end in injury.
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