Categories
Weblogging

Idiots proliferate

There’s yet another article out about weblogging, this one Living in the Blog-osphere by Steven Levy at Newsweek.

It started out with promise, though mixed with the usual condescension:

So what kind of Weblogs live in the dark matter? There are endless personal journals like Zack’s, exposing thoughts and experiences that range from the somewhat profound to the stultifyingly banal. There are collectively millions of links to obscure items tucked in dusty recesses of the Web. There are blogs devoted to cats, blogs about knitting, blogs about 802.11 wireless standards, blogs about “The Golden Girls” TV show, blogs about baseball, blogs about sex (hey, it is the Internet). One blog is written in the voice of Julius Caesar, tracking the Roman’s progress as he takes on Gaul. There are blog short stories and a blog novel in progress.

And then, rather than provide links to these “dark matter” weblogs, and interviews with writers of same, he continues with the same mundane questions asked of the same A-listers: Dave Winer, David Weinberger, Glenn Reynolds, Meg Hourihan, Rebecca Blood, Ev, and so on.

Worse, he writes example postings into his example weblog, a grotesque parady of the phenomenon.

David Weinberger, you have the ear of these people–why the hell aren’t you hitting these people upside the head and cluing them in on the ‘real’ world of weblogging? Levy makes weblogging look as exciting as reciting a shopping list. And providing safe but quotable sound bites isn’t helping anyone.

Here’s a clue for Levy and the other so-called “professional journalists”: no weblog entry is as banal as most of these mainstream “what is weblogging” articles. If we talk about what we have for lunch today, at least what we write is original.

How absolutely deadly dull.

Categories
Weblogging

Dark matter posting

Today for lunch I had homemade tacos, with fresh lettuce and tomato, cheddar cheese, and spiced beef, served up in a hard corn shell. I always put a sweet-spicey tomato dressing on top rather than salsa.

Afterwards, I played with my cat, Zoe. She’s ten years old, a beautiful silver tabby, and still playful as a kitten. She has two green eyes, though one is turning brown.

Now I’m going back to working on my book. Later I might go for frozen custard.

(All of this is blogspeak for Up Yours, Newsweek.)

Categories
Political

And another into the dead zone

Just when you thought that we were going to have a typical weblogging Dead Zone (i.e. the weekend), more juicy tidbits pop up.

An open letter from a neighbor to the North: You have become a nation of monsters, America. Hypocrites. Murderers. Fools. And an accompanying MeFi thread.

We in the US are more than aware of what’s happening here, and many of us are doing what we can to counter actions of Bush, Ashcroft, and others. Perhaps if Mr. McDougall spent a little more time on the internet, reading, and a little less time writing uncontrolled, vitrolic, and counter-productive rants, he might meet a few of us “Americans” who aren’t monsters, hypocrites, murderers, and fools.

(But I wouldn’t recommend he start with Metafilter.)

Categories
Weblogging

Sideshow

Though posting in the Weblogging Dead Zone is equivalent to a tree falling in the forest and making no sound, I decided to indulge in a little desultory rambling, anyway.

I spent several hours this morning over at the RSS-Dev group, catching up in that world for the RSS chapter of the book. Imagine my surprise when I found out that repeating properties aren’t allowed in RSS. Really? They’re okay in RDF. Well, color me surprised. However, the working group is considering changing the spec and allowing repeated properties. Yes. Good. Or my Books RSS will become just plain Books RDF.

I also managed to get the Python RDF server Redfoot running, and now I have both Redfoot and Tomcat running off my web server. (Though I fear that if all this additional load slows my separated by birth twin, Stavros the Wonder Chicken’s weblog, he’s going to get stressed and begin to molt.)

I had several errands this afternoon and the weather is extremely warm and very humid; I was squishy by the time I got home. I’m hoping for a nice thunderstorm, and in preparation, I also visited the library and stocked up.

Most of the books on my to-read list are either at other branches and need to be sent, or are checked out. However, I was able to pick up The Sportswriter, by Richard Ford, The Rings of Saturn by W. G. Sebald (both recommended by Jonathon), and Geek Love by Katherine Dunn (recommended by Denise Howell).

I glanced into The Rings of Saturn at the library, and ended up standing in the aisle, reading page after page, blocking everyone who was trying to get past. I finally had to stop at one point to move back to let one woman past. When I looked up in irritation, I met the placid good natured face of a short heavyset woman with a kindly smile, arms full of books.

“Good book?”

“Yes. Very.”

And thank you for reminding me that I now live in a gentler, kindlier area, and that I still have the rudiments of good manners. Needless to say, I didn’t glance into the other two books until I got home.

(edited — removed a section talking about one of my childhood fears, and you all didn’t need to hear it and I didn’t want to read it.)

Enough rambling. If I continue I’ll start talking about my cat and what I had for lunch, next. And I’m tired.

Categories
Writing

Paper gold

No links in this posting. To those who are mentioned, apologies. But sometimes links just disrupt.

I’ve not been reading books lately, I’ve been devouring them. I’m making a trip to the library every other day and they’re starting to know me by name. It’s so nice to have access to such a terrific library system.

I’m in a strong mood to spend the next 3 or 4 days curled up with a book. You know the type of mood I’m talking about. I hope we get some nice thunderstorms, with lots of rain and wind. From my bedroom on the second floor I can watch the storms roll in, hear the rain on the roof, see the lightening. The only thing left to complete the picture is my books.

Thanks to Ben, Karl, Denise, and Leesa for book suggestions (and Dorothea’s admittance to being “the woman with the ocular equivalent of a tin ear”, which I thought was a hoot). I’m now going to add to my reading list “VOX”, “Leaves of Grass”, “Geek Love”, “Good in Bed”, and I downloaded a PDF version of “Baby Head”. I have a feeling when I show up at the library with this list of books tomorrow, I might raise an eyebrow or two. It is an eclectic assortment.

Two of the books I’m reading/finishing are Whitney Otto’s “A Collection of Beauties at the Height of their Popularity” and Agee and Evan’s “Let Us now Praise Famous men”. Both books are very interesting, though I prefer the Agee and Evan’s book. By far.

Otto’s book focuses almost entirely on character in its portrayal of several women in the hedonistic age of the 80’s in San Francisco. The common thread tying the women together, and quite loosely, is that each character goes to the same ‘tea’ room, and is captured in a modern day “pillow book”, or diary, kept by one of the women. However, Otto skips from person to person as casually as one would brush up against a person in a bar, first focusing on Coco, then on Jelly, and so on. You’re never quite on any one person long enough to like them or dislike them.

Of one of the characters, Elodie, Otto wrote:

It seemed safe to love something so abstract because her life did not seem to offer her a way to have anything, and so she spent her life not learning to let go but training herself not to want.

In the book the endless parties, relationships, and drugs swirl around in a kaleidoscope of pieces and fragments, highlighted against the emptiness of the women’s lives. This book is not an easy read, but is skillful in its characterization.

If “A Collection of Beauties” is about character, “Let Us now Praise Famous Men”, is pure imagery, one of the most visually compelling books I’ve read in some time.

In the chapter titled “Near a Church”, Agee talks about he and Evans finding a perfect church. As they look for an entrance into the church, a young black couple walks past. Agree writes:

They were young, soberly boyant of body, and strong, the man not quite thin, the girl not quite plump, and I remember their mild and sober faces, hers softly wide and sensitive to love and to pleasure; and his resourceful and intelligent without intellect and without guile, and their extreme dignity, which was effortless, unvalued, and undefended in them as the assumption of superiority which suffuses a rich and social adolescent boy; and I was taking pleasure also in the competence and rhythm of their walking in the sun, which was incapable of being less than a muted dancing, and in the beauty of the sunlight of their clothes, which were strange upon them in the middle of the week.

This section doesn’t even capture the richness of the rest of the chapter, but there was no way I could include anything else without including the entire chapter, each sentence so dependent on the one before and the one following.

Reading “Let us Now Praise Famous Men”, I can see why Jonathon and Jeff Ward decided to turn to writing rather than photography–there are certain things a camera just cannot capture.

I can recommend both books, Agee and Evan’s strongly, and Otto’s carefully.

Now, on to more books. And since discussion recently is about getting paid to weblog, you can ‘pay’ me by adding more book recommendations to the comments. With these and a library card, I’m a rich woman.