Me: April 2005 Archives

Back in college I worked for a few years making bluelines for a couple of local companies. It was a repetitive job, without a lot of intellectual challenge.

I still think of it fondly though because it was very social work. It was easy to carry on a conversation while doing something as mindless as running the diazo machine. Slide the original, wait; slide another on in, lather, rinse, repeat. We played music a little too loud and made a lot of bad jokes trying to keep going until the second shift was over.

I ran across some folks who are using the blueprint process as alternative photo process. I tried this a few times but never really got anything that looked the way I hoped it would. These folks have turned out some pretty good looking work I think.

Makes me homesick for the smell of ammonia.

Young Joel suggest writing like "no one is reading." It's great advice that I try and follow ... right up until someone who you haven't talked to in months or even years walks up and says, "Hey, I was reading your blog and ..."

That experience is both unnerving and disarming. It makes pretending that no one is reading much harder.

Whenever this happens, like it did three times in the last week, I try act cool, like it's no big thing. After all, I write this stuff expecting someone might read it.

In my head I sweat and furiously click through my postings wondering if I've offended them or if my thoughts weird them out in some way. It's all I can do to not backpedal and blurt out things like, "No you shouldn't see "Chasing Amy" it's not for you. I have the worst taste in movies. I don't know how that picture of Harry Frankfurt's essay on Bullsh*t got there, I don't even think words like that, much less purchase books on the topic ..."

I generally imagine about three people reading what I've written. It's an audience just large enough to justify spell checking. For my imaginary audience I hand pick people who I know aren't easily offended and can deal with my special brand of humour. You know who you are.

I think the desire to backpedal stems from imagining that I look better from further away.

Being a furious pattern matcher, problem solver and let's not forget problem creator it's tough to live in the moment and enjoy the "delicious ambiguity" without trying to pretend to direct this little three act play.

The idea that I d not need to know where I am in the story reminds me of a line in the Semisonic song, "Closing Time".