I will be able to comment on Friday.
Added a few pictures to the photoblog. Button on the right sidebar. Will put in pictures of the kitchen on Friday or Monday with a corresponding post here. Fiction about how wonderful it is.
PRAY, SEND OUT WISHES, WHATEVER, FOR SOUTH DAKOTA’S SENATOR. BUSH IS PROBABLY DANCING WITH JOY AT THE THOUGHT THAT HE MIGHT HAVE TO BE REPLACED. AND I DO HOPE THAT SENATOR JOHNSON RECOVERS, FOR HIS OWN SAKE. BUT THE REPUBLICAN’S CAN’T CONTROL THE SENATE. THAT WOULD BE THE CRUELEST JOKE.
I love Jimmy Carter. But to imply, infer or say that Jews control the media and keep it pro-Israeli is too perpetuate an old stereotype. I might be Jewish. I might recognize Israel and understand why it exists. That doesn’t mean I support all or most of its policies. Wait, I’m no longer working in mainstream media, I don’t have to defend myself.
We’re two percent of the American population. That includes children, people who can’t work for whatever reason, people who are poor, yes there are poor Jews and more. Factor them out, and no way can we control all the things we’re told we do. If we do, please include me.
After the blogging thing there is a fiction post.
A BBC article on blogging:They predict 2007 will be blogging’s peak year. I predict that each blogger, who isn’t paid to blog, has a shelf life with an expiration date. There will always be new and more exciting bloggers but can they keep your interest for 25 months? Do they continually make new blogging rules for themselves just so they can break them?
I have turned to fiction because it excites me, and frankly I feel stale. I can do 50 Fun Facts for Fridays, because I love facts. But are they true facts? And do you care? This fiction post isn’t up to my new found sex drugs and rock fiction standards, but…
If I can get it together I will make reservations, on Friday, to go to Cancun. I might not even take Savannah Falls Too, the laptop. Then again…I feel as if I should turn to comment parties and contests but I wouldn’t know how to do a contest if it told me how to. I’m doing you all a favor by not moderating. Thanks Al, I love being one in 57 million. It makes me feel so unique.
He said those who loved blogging were committed to keeping it up, while others had become bored and moved on.
A lot of people have been in and out of this thing
“Everyone thinks they have something to say, until they’re put on stage and asked to say it.”
Last month blog tracking firm Technorati reported that 100,000 new blogs were being created every day, and 1.3 million blog posts were written.
Technorati is tracking more than 57 million blogs, of which it believes around 55% are “active” and updated at least every three months.
Some of are never verbally blocked. Before I began to blog, I could never think of things to write about, and now….
It’s Wednesday and that means it’s time to thank Bone for supplying the words. He’s Shayna’s guest on My Music Highway project Bone writes wonderful song lyrics/poem. However he hasn’t switched from plain Blogger yet, and thus doesn’t have categories so good luck finding them.
This is fiction. It’s done fast, not edited and I had absolutely no story in mind when I began it.
1984 Upper West Side: Last night Dinah had made dinner for her best friend Camilla, and Warren with whom she volunteered at Hotel Smith that housed both homeless families and single people. Madison Avenue, and its surrounding areas had turned into homeless haven. It was heartbreaking. Kids, as young as four, would be allowed on the Avenue unsupervised at midnight.
Dinah and Warren tried to get the kids to come into play area that had been furnished with furniture from the remaining rip-off furniture companies that used to dominate the neighborhood. You would give them the number of the furniture item you had seen at Bloomingdales’ or even a furniture store, and would get it discounted. Unless you would consent to going to South Jersey to inspect the furniture, you had to accept it upon delivery. Most people didn’t think to inquire, and the customer service reps were instructed not to tell unless asked. Dinah had worked in one of those companies, and had been fired after the second day for telling customers that info, and she would give them numbers to call and complain if anything was wrong with the order. She had only been 20 and was going to change the world.
Now Dinah would be content with changing a milimeter of a page, or getting the kids into the play room. It had a trampoline that Dinah used constantly. Dinah had recently graduated from the Hunter/Cornell Masters program in Human Resources and was VP of HR at the film company she had done her internship at. Warren worked for a shipping company. Camilla basically married one rich man after another. That was very anti-work ethic 80’s and dangerously veered to the better parts of Madison where Camilla would trade up from a penthouse to a five story town house with indoor/outdoor pool.
Camilla was unapologetic about her lifestyle. Dinah found herself judging people on their reaction. Camilla had given the money to rent the playroom and was on many boards where she would would quietly but emphatically convince the board to give money for homeless children and mothers.
Dinah was scared that Camilla and Warren wouldn’t like each other. Last night during the poached salmon that would always be made in foil in the dishwasher, they seemed to bond over all their friends who had the new Gay disease AIDS. None of them could believe how ignorant, scared and insane most people seemed to be over this.
Sometimes it felt like an entire generation of incredible young men was going to be wiped out. Dinah was scared to get too close to Warren. She was becoming a fatalist. Hard not to be when so many people were dying.
Of course Warren and Camilla would like each other. Camilla needed a rich husband and constant attention from as many good looking Gay men as possible. She needed to keep the stable overflowing with too many men.
Dinah thought of the children who raced on top of cars on Madison Avenue. She thought of all the young men who would probably die within the next ten years, and wondered if it was possible for life to become more depressing. One hit from the bong and life looked better.
But still she took some strands of her hair and was getting ready to twirl it when her husband walked in. jay was away so much doing whatever movie producers do she sometimes forgot that she was married. It made for a very good marriage.