to write a book about blogging. instead i should write a book about getting a book deal.
rule number one: turn down every offer. very politely.
its murphys law that when you get a gig to blog for a living, thus ruining any free time that you might have, the publishers bang down your door to… write. dont they see the problem there?
the paradox. the irony. the non-synchrnocity?
recently i was at a very nice lunch at Blogger’s headquarters surrounded by people who i have nothing but respect for, and out of my giddiness to be around them and on the Google grounds, i blurted out something that i felt bad about an hour later and for the rest of the day.
something happened and i said that no one at the table was really a “real blogger”. one lady spoke up and said that she was, and upon further review, i agreed with her, coldly leaving everyone else feeling crappy, im sure.
what i mean by real blogger is someone who blogs every day or pretty damn near every day. there are a few people who blog several times a day every day and those are super bloggers, but to me if you blog regularly on your blog only taking one or two days off a week you are, in my mind “a real blogger.”
does that mean that if you only write once a week you cant have a good blog? of course not. Maddox hardly ever fucking blogs, therefore hes not a busblog approved “real blogger” but his blog is great and it gets more traffic than 99.9% of the web.
he is the exception, not the rule.
indeed, one could say that pretty much everyone on the Technorati Top 100 are the exceptions. people who blog and millions of others read their work.
the rule, strangely enough, is that a blog is something that is updated only a few times a month, and is only read by close friends and family. therefore if you actually get hits and regular readers, you are an exception. if you get tens of thousands of hits you are an abnormality. and if you get millions you are a blogger and in olden times would be cast out or burned.
the people at my lunch table were better than bloggers, they are blog-enablers. they are the gears that need to turn to make the machine work. theyre in the shit so deep that they’re essential. and because of that they are loved. and because of that i felt badly because what i might have said might have been insulting to them which wasnt the point since there shouldnt really be anything “good” about being a blogger any more than there should be any prize awarded to chronic masturbators. and to get paid to do it in public isn’t that far removed from exhibitionism
which leads us to this tale.
two chicks came over last night thinking i was a drug dealer, not a blogger.
their friend had been drinking and told them my name and address when indeed she meant someone elses name and address. how you could confuse me for a drug dealer is pretty preposterous since i dont like the phone to ring or the door to be knocked but i guess thats why they call it dope.
anyways within seconds we had realized the mistake and laughed, and i offered the girls some beer, which they accepted. and then i did something that made me laugh afterwards because it was intentionally mean. in a not-so-mean way.
i went to my fridge and saw that i still had some cans of Miller Lite left over from my party last month. to me theres nothing worse tasting and silly than Lite beer from Miller. but for some reason the youth of America has no problem with it and seeing as if these twitchy chicks who probably should have been carded, looked like they probably had some sort of homework awaiting them, i poured a can each into clean glasses and served it to them.
they didnt notice. and, in fact, asked for another when it was offerred.
and left tipsy, blushing, and probably, never to return again.
but at least i got rid of some dead stock.
madpony returned for you