Shaving your palms

Blogging about blogging is a lot like sending yourself e-mail. Both practices I have engaged in for a number of reasons. Testing out a new e-mail addy, making sure the new mail proggy works correctly, even double checking filter rules. But blogging about blogging is something I really try to avoid at all costs - except for today. Today I am going to engage in the tradition of link-love under the guises of telling rendering a great adventure analytical tale observation about blogging. In any event it will not be a long one, tail that is.

Two distinct philosophies of blog publishing are typified in the works of Humorlessbitch (Zo) and Listics (Frank). Now I am not here to offer deep contextual reviews of respective expressed world views(Weltanschauung ( [ˈvɛlt.ʔanˌʃaʊ.ʊŋ] (help·info)) . (See also Life-world (Lebensveld). Derived from phenomenology (q.v.), it refers to the taken-for-granted universe of daily social activity-- the forms of life (Wittgenstein).) Rather I am here to amplify certain nuances in blogging styles.

I wonder, for instance, if Zo gets to see how her blog is presented in different readers. Publishing only the 'teaser' looks like this in Google Reader.

One Split Second Before Sex

from HUMORLESSBITCH

rabbit blog: You’re craving that one split second BEFORE you fuck the guy, and nothing more. Most of us are hung up on that moment, thanks to being flooded with its supreme significance through every minute of our waking hours on earth. Well, yes … it represents everything. The moment at birth when your gaze locks onto [...]

"The moment at birth when your gaze locks onto ... " Yeah, you got me clicking on the headline link looking for the next phrase. An endearing reflection of grandson's first breath and love.

... someone to whom you’d just become the center of all existence.

Never mind that it isn’t true. Obviously, we are meant, in order to thrive, to believe it for a while. To live in the center of her love, in order to learn. In order to become a human child. Obvious, too, that the craving of that moment, anticipating it, is way easier than growing up.

A wonderful roller-coaster ride that takes a sudden left turn and drops you squarely into the rabbit hole blog... who in turn sends you head-spinning off to
"Poets and Writers." Poets and Writers and rabbits, oh my.

Frank on the other hand lays his meat, maintenance and a cherry pie right on the table in his Saturday Farm Report. In his usual style Frank seasons the offering with a slight spicy aside ... " that’s (J)erry Garcia on the pedal steel on the cut above." referring to Jefferson Airplane's Volunteers, The Farm ... eliciting fragmented memories of a hot summer day in East Lansing on the campus of Michigan State University... it was a day long happening...hippies and blankets, insence smoke and music...bellbottoms and tie-dyed t-shirts...and music. All contained in a hastily erected cyclone fence corral. The guy at the gate insisted on the $5.00 admission fee that I didn't have...so I and hundreds of others watched from the periphery...until the inevitable happened. The promoters abandoned their economic pursuit in deference to the pressing crowd. The fence came down and Jefferson Airplane took the stage. Grace Slick belted out...

Look whats happening out in the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Hey Im dancing down the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Aint it amazing all the people I meet
Got a revolution got to revolution
One generation got old
One generation got soul
This generation got no destination to hold
Pick up the cry
Hey now its time for you and me
Got a revolution got to revolution
Come on now were marching to the sea
Got a revolution got to revolution
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers of america

And if you don't mind my saying Zo, you remind me of her.