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In Soviet Russia, Blog Follows YOU

January 12, 2013

I keep getting these notices that so-and-so is following my blog. For the most part, you’re total strangers, with extra emphasis on the strange, most likely. I’m curious like a cat, so of course I wonder: who are you people? Where are you? What kind of things do you do during the day? And what was the moment that made you decide, Ohh, yeah, I want to be informed immediately when there’s some more of this. What was the exact sentence? When I’m teaching or doing a reading it’s very perceptible, the difference between polite silence and actual listening and the moment when it shifts from one to the other. In this situation I blog out a bunch of stuff and flush it away into the Internet–which I recently learned is supposed to be capitalized but I’m not at all sure it deserves to be–and I never know what kind of reactions, if any, it will generate. My only real source of information is the search stats, from which it is apparent that most of my visitors come here by accident and fuck off as soon as they have the recipe for a Burt Reynolds: half butterscotch schnapps, half spiced rum (DO NOT use Kraken for this purpose!), all delicious. Have a great evening, sailor!

Anyway, we’re likely one of the weirdest groups of people ever inadvertently assembled, so maybe it would please the gods for a few minutes if we got together and had some kind of committee meeting. We could probably accomplish a lot of things. Couples might even form. At this pre-superfame point in my career, we’d all fit comfortably into a small pub.

What should we put on the agenda? I would personally like to see something done about slow walkers. And dogs wearing shirts for no reason. And people saying “I’ll get” instead of “I’d like” at coffee shops. Also the price of feminine hygiene products, the emotional cost of living, and writers who don’t read. We could start with any of these, or with one of your things.

Please RSVP (redundant, right?) to Kate Strayer (not even remotely her real name), c/o the int Internet, ∞ Hard Drive Drive, O1I 0I0.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. January 12, 2013 11:28 am

    Are there really writers who don’t read? That scrambles my mind eggs.

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