January 16, 2007

• Bloody L.

  Amazing how time flies by, no matter what else is going on. I just came back here– for reasons of what-evuh– and realized it has been six weeks since my last confession. Well, actually, I got a small reminder in the mail from The Powers That Be, letting me know that I had run out of premium, and would I pretty-please-with-dumplings-on-top ante up another twenty-five bucks for another year of lovely advertisement free service.

  I think– on some level– I have been writing less because I simply have less stuff to piss and moan about, since I have moved. Makes me wonder if people who keep blogs (or a lot of ‘em, anywaze) basically are using them as a platform to bellyache about the misery and confusion in their lives. Of course, I’m not saying that I have found The Answer to misery and confusion, merely that during 2006 I made a move that reduced it from the sound of having my head inside a jet engine to merely a dull roar.

  Blah, blah, blah….

  The other day, I came face-to-face with the ongoing MySpacification of the world. I was looking up some information on music, and there was more information about several artists on their MySpace profiles than on their “official” web sites. Who? Iio. Vega-4. It’s really OK if you’ve never heard of them.

  Actually, I don’t care all that much about MySpace. I think SecondLife is a far more interesting concept. It’s weird. One of my enneagram discussion groups has virtual meetings on SecondLife. I suppose what’s weird about it is that once upon a time it was considered chronically nerdy to belong to online virtual communities… now it has all become so very mainstream.

  On some level, all these virtual communities are a godsend for those of us who simply aren’t into the “bar scene” and attending festivals as our main form of interaction with the world.

  It has been cold here, for a while. There has been snow on the ground for about 5-6 days, and we’re supposedly getting more tonight. Yes, this is the northcountry, but that’s actually unusual for this otherwise mild place. Of course, I don’t let it put me off walking the eight blocks down to the beach, where I’ll wander around for a couple of hours. Or more. I was never one of those people who thought the only good use for a beach was to lay out in the sun and work on my skin cancer.

  People here are pretty friendly. Of course, there’s no reason why they wouldn’t be… but there’s a lot to be said for the energetic state of a place largely inhabited by people who live there because they want to… not because they have to, or were transferred there by Some Big Corporation, Inc.

  So, it’s a new year. I didn’t make any resolutions… other than a vague notion that I want to get back into writing snail mail. I miss writing by hand. I miss actual letters in my mailbox. Maybe it has something to do with the slowness of where I live. No road rage. No people sitting in traffic for an hour to get to work. A traffic jam is 10 cars backed up at the stop sign at San Juan and 19th. Or people waiting for the ferry, at the end of a holiday weekend. Yup, gonna write more letters…

  The way I see it, you can either “be somewhere” and adapt, or you can take your sorry ass to a place where you won’t have to adapt… which, in itself, is a form of adaptation. The same can be said jobs, or habits, or ideas, or thoughts, I suppose. I have always been a “lazy” person, in some respects… “lazy,” in terms of personal adaptation. I was always sick to death of needing to be something I was not. I think it was Geroge Bernard Shaw who commented along the lines of if you don’t like your circumstances, look for some circumstances you do like. Makes eminent sense to me.

  Right now, I am even working on the idea that there is a way to make a living from spending part of the day walking on the beach. Don’t laugh, I’m dead serious.

   

  • 1:32 am
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