How Brains Grow
Published February 23, 2004
It was only an image in my mind but it was powerful enough to become a memory of how it would be in the future, a memory of a projection of a future that never happened. We moved, but it was only a few blocks away. The house was great. Everything was great. No story here.
Today I realize that this is why I write so weird. It's my brain, shedding.
I've been told I don't know how to blog and I'm quite sure this is true. I'm pneu. Perhaps blogging does require some kind of training or probation period or standardized test or dues. A driver's license. Maybe the hazing thing is a good idea, I don't know. I'm quite sure though, as I learn, that I've had it wrong from the start. Blogging, to me, sounded almost onomatopoetic — the sound of expelling mental phlegm. He turned his head, coughed, and blogged on the doctor's shoe.
I'm told a blog should link links to links and that this interlinking system is like a gigantic piece of chain mail draped around the globe; that once I tap into its vast power I will be intimately interconnected with all peoples everywhere simultaneously, but that meanwhile, back here on earth my body will eventually be unplugged.
While I wait for this blessed unplugging I wander this vast internet landscape, rubbing shoulders with the greats and not-so-greats, learning from the best when they're at their worst; from the worst when they're at their best, and daily I come to the same conclusion. I'm not a blogger by nature, not in the sense it has come to be defined, and the harder I try to fit with the format, I fail.
It is very hard work to be somebody else.
Okay, now get the ball, please.
- How Brains Grow
- Published: February 23, 2004
- Type:
- Section: Culture
- Filed Under: Culture: Humor and Satire
- Writer: CW Fisher
- CW Fisher's BC Writer page
- CW Fisher's personal site
- Spread the Word
- Like this article?
- Email this
Save to del.icio.us
Comments on this articleComments
...this interlinking system is like a gigantic piece of... ...shit." Thanks. You're right, Shark, I need an editor.
I like this "Marshall McLuhan meets Dante's Inferno" angle. Get Pixar teamed up with the LOTR people, do a family version of the rapture, with songs and dancing, lots of violence, beautifully rendered.
"The Circled Streets of Hell as an eternally self-replicating pop-up window. ...Internet space is curved, and if you click long enough, you get to click on yer own ass from behind."
This is so true! Seeing my name come up number one on Google, for example, was a classic good news/bad news story to a lifelong privacy fanatic such as myself. For all anybody knew I could have been JD Salinger. That's over with.
Thanks for your encouragement, Shark. Can I blame you? Later, I mean, if things get out of hand?
Shedding? Ping-pong balls? Bloggers don't use metaphors. We don't need no stinking metaphors.
Dude, you need to pimp your blog out. Hey, I'll link your blog to my blog if you do the same for me? Whores! I appreciate what you have written. Please don't sell out. The shedding, the ping-pong ball analogy, the onomatopoetic idea--I truly liked it. And you managed to get me to see condoms and tampons in a way that I have never seen them before. Wow! Although, that ball chaser line could be misinterpreted (not that there is anything wrong with that sort of thing).
Dirtgrain, you've made my day. I'm smiling from ear to ear. I look like I had a horrible shaving accident. I do appreciate your kindness -- no joke. It is heaven to be read by other writers. I DO read you, I will blogroll you, and I like it when you call me Whore.
CW, This is tingly-beautiful writing, though the Dennis-Miller-in-a-blender free association can befuddle. But there is no such thing as a "blogger," just different kinds of writers who use some kind of cheater's software to publish their thoughts on ... stuff.
The last time I had Hamm's I was 15 and working for a multimillionaire's groundskeeper, who one sunny day decided we were going to shoot raccoons out of trees on the property because they were annoying the Cat of the House. We (not me) got about five of them and it was traumatic as hell, with these creatures falling out of trees and twitching on the ground.
The groundskeeper decided we all (two other teenage laborers) needed beers after that. I had nightmares.
Thank you, Eric. I'm tingling myself, and just as befuddled. I am praying for you now, after learning of your raccoon experience. The idea of a millionaire granting beers to teens for having killed a family of critters that were "annoying" a pet cat... well, it just makes me want to have a nightmare right along with you. As you know, I've already got a fear of dead birds. I tried my best to foment panic among the masses but they must have been watching American Idol. Now to see that you live with this every day... raccoons, you say? Falling right out of the trees? Yeah, that's bad. Especially since they're so dang easy to catch. Just put a beer in a cage and they'll be there.
"From the land of sky blue wa-a-ters...
Comes the beer refreshing...
Hamm's, the beer refreshing
Hamm's, the beer refreshing"
Add your comment, speak your mind
(Or ping: http://blogcritics.org/mt/tb/13060)
CW, you ain't a blogger; you're a writer. A good one. Anybody can 'blog'; very few can 'write.'
re: "...a blog should link links to links and that this interlinking system is like a gigantic piece of..."
"...shit."
Marshall McLuhan's meets Dante's Inferno.
The Circled Streets of Hell as en eternally self-replicating pop-up window.
Internet space is curved, and if you click long enough, you get to click on yer own ass from behind.
Sniff the "information" that pours forth---and watch out for viruses.
We're all 'six degrees of separation' from disinformation.
xxoo, (platonic, of course)
Shark