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why?

Why start a blog?

Why not?

I made a living as a bartender for more than a few years. On its best days, the job was like nothing that could be remotely defined as work.  I would meet new people and catch up with the regulars every shift.  I could flirt, entertain, and tell stories and jokes.  I got the chance to listen to and learn from a variety of perspective and opinion.  There was music, food and libations.  It was like getting paid to host a  cocktail party every night; all the fun without any risk of finding a strange drunk in my room rifling thru the dresser drawers, invariably “looking for a light” when asked why.

I want blogging here to have the same dynamic.

[Editor’s note:  awkward fictional anecdote removed]

The Suite is open! Welcome to party! Check your sidearm at the door. The bar is open; room service is on the way. Please keep the shouting to a minimum but feel free to sing as loud as you want. Confine the making-out to the balcony or the master bath.  The TV is in the bedroom but the host gets the bed. Slainte!

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Anne B permalink
    December 6, 2009 5:27 am

    Hello. I noticed your shoes outside.

    Now that I’ve stopped crying, I have every sandwich imaginable … and a cake!

    I suppose you have **that girl** in there. The two-dimensional one. (She’s quite comfortable without her shoes, as I remember.) I want you to be happy, less of me. I do. Do you see that I’m fine with this?

    Come on back to us, will you? We have … well … history together.

    And also, I’d miss you if you left for good. 😦

    • December 6, 2009 1:20 pm

      Anne B, what would you like to drink? You’re not a cosmo girl are you? Well, whatever you have a taste for, to each her own, I’ll will not judge, (too much,heh)
      Welcome to the parlor; shut the door, have a seat.
      Let us converse.
      First, let me explain the Room 437 timeline because this whole to-do may be interpreted as just an elaborate stunt to get attention on my part. And while LOM does like to strut the stage from time to time, and for me at least anything more involved than making the bus feels elaborate, this “move”, as it is, was not a stunt.
      When we got to the last episode I realized when it was over, there was a real possibility there was going to be silence (ha! more on that later) just as I was having so much fun typing and reading with all of you. I knew the Sisters had real jobs and I just figured the post topics weren’t going to be always about something I could get enthused about and I didn’t want to constantly hi-jack threads, either. I was feeling trapped, cornered, pressured, much like our DD really, I was faced with slogging it out until S4 or what? going to AMC or TWoP? that would involve the same bullying to redirect the conversation. I’m not comfortable being that annoying.
      Then the creative way forward crystalized. I could hear a light, jaunty piano melody in my head. I’ll follow the SCDP game plan! Brilliant!
      So I set up a different address and I planned to produce some more content before going rogue but your article presented me a great plot device (ick, please do not use that word like a lot of gang is doing over there,) a cue for me to exit, with a semi-grand Draperish flourish. Though not really ready, the moment (ha! more on that too later) was kismet, could not be passed over.
      And here we are.
      I’ve swallowed the red pill and I sit with Morpheus. Or Trinity? Or the Oracle?? Who ARE you?
      heh.
      The movie in my mind is constantly playing everything at once.
      So, I trusted you to be the funny, curious, playful raconteur that you present your self to be and I am so pleased you are. How can I call you a hack now? 😉
      Though in the interest of full disclosure, I kinda did just a little of that in the simultaneous email I sent to the Lipps. I’m sorry. I didn’t feel you developed a solid argument strong enough to justify the grand claim of “writer-by-committee” at the end. You had bits and pieces of varying ideas that, it appears, gelled for some Cases; Cases I thought might not be as effusive with teh praise (did you spike the water cooler? employ the Hypno-Toad while I was out of the room?) Their continued overwhelming applause really fed my paranoia a bit, I had serious nagging self-doubts, that maybe I was having an onset of aphasia or something. Their reactions stopped me dead in my tracks. LOM would love it all but I would step back and look at it from the other side of the room.
      Anyhow, as I said, I didn’t feel you justified using the big rhetorical broadside at the end. I took umbrage and I’m not paid nor qualified to be an umbrage-taker.

      I think that’s enough for now. Oh yeah . . . The silence and the moment? I take them to the woodshed in the post I wrote, and dress them up in colorful wigs and red noses and make them dance the Tarantella just for my twisted amusement. Sorry, hope you weren’t too fond of them.

      I want to make sure you know and appreciate how you saved my day (!!) with such a perfect response to it all Anne. You are the cat’s pajamas, the bee’s knees; You are Aces.
      Thanks again!
      I have work to do. I have to get the editor in here to help me rework this piece, be well.

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