And now, for an important news bulletin

If you're worried about the latest wave of news that says the current administration knew the terror attacks on America were coming, don't be. There are far more important matters of national security to deal with. Kent, you have lost your mind. Bless you.

sweet world

Look inside your mind
See the darkness creeping out
I can see the softness there
Where the sunshine is gliding in
Fill your mind with love
Find the world of future glory

-genesis, where the sour turns to sweet

New morning, windows open, sunlight filtering in, and I think about a place I’d like to build for us. A real place, a magical place that nurtures the ebb and flow of bloggers, our dreams, a place of potions and remedies, a healing place, a place we could all come, give, take, then go—or maybe never leave.

And who would come there? We would start it off, me, George and Jenna, because we have always been expecting a better world, and Diva and Bando would come too. They are sweet dogs, unselfish and loyal, and amazing to observe, old matriarch Diva, crabby yet patient with her slobbering, unrelated son. And I’ll bathe them before we go to this place. Because, as Jenna says, “they smell so stinky.”

And we’ll set up house in a huge compound on the edge of the woods, near the pond thick with life, where you can watch the fish jumping for flies at night. Once we clean out the cobwebs, and set up an expanse of space for families and friends, others will come.

There will be no walls, your space is your own, and invisible, flexible boundaries are disarmed by creativity and a knowing so big it overcomes every problem, worry, heartache; there is no such thing as loss in this place.

Halley and her family will come, and her son will be my son, and my daughter, hers. And Chris will come, but not the neighborhood cat that sneaks into his apartment. He can bring others, in heart and in hand, and he will bring RageBoy, and in this place, RageBoy will have the space he needs, the comfort he needs, and the Italian restaurant won’t be so far away; Everywhere there are people with hearts open.

Doc will come with his lot, and he will bring us balance, and we him. And AKMA and his brood will come, and his fellow Blog U colleages too, and Golby, and Gary, and theirs. And Anita will come, and Andrea, and Esta. Other Blog Sisters will visit, some will stay.

Shelley will come for a time, and burn so brightly, then leave us with that light until she returns.

David will stay behind, and visit sometimes, and he will be our liaison to the rest of the world, knowing, without being there, just what this place is for. Telling the others, “It can be so.”

Small pieces now joined.

And Elaine will come, she can bring her mom, we’ll have a special place for her, comfortable enough, close, yet far enough, and a caregiver for her so Elaine can rest her soul some. And Tom Shugart and his, and Frank Paynter, Tom Matrullo, Steve MacLaughlin, and, my god, of course Marek.

In this place, there is all the bandwidth we ever need, and all of the books of human kind, notes from other bloggers in the margins. And we learn and absorb from one another, as we engage, we grow. Your mind is mine, and mine yours, spiraling further out.

Denise has a law library all to herself, protects us and enriches us with wisdom and wit.

Technology supports us, without overwhelming us, because we have the woods.

We have Macs and PCs and color printers and faxes, and a powerful network, a spot for convergence of ideas, where they germinate and grow organically, without interference, because left on their own for a while, good ideas do this. And here, day is night, and night is day, one sky, thought is unending.

We have all of the notebooks and pencils and pens, and paper and paints we need. We paint the walls with murals, the children help, they mix colors no one has ever seen, and everywhere you look, something is blooming.

There is music, coming to and from George and Tom and Eric and others, but there is no music business, and art is allowed to happen, and for once matter most. The music chases us and become us, playing mates with blogging, sound marries voice, beautiful babies everywhere.

The children are playing now, by the big rocks just up over the hill. We can see them from every window, and we know they are safe. There is no danger here.

Frank Paynter has fashioned a wooden swing for them, it hangs from a willow by the picnic table. I see them now—Chris and Doc are having coffee at the table, writing notes, looking up long enough to see the children laughing as they play King of the Hill on the tallest boulder. There are no band-aids here, because there is no hurt.

Kent is happiest sitting at the edge of the pond, wondering how the fish move so quickly, blogging wirelessly as they feed on the grass at the bank.

Our world is unbroken. The union of mind/soul/spirit/sky/earth/fire inside this place can fix the world, and we set out to do just that. No politics, no leader, only a singularity of heart. The world looks in on us, every once in a while, when David lets them know what we’re doing. He’s careful to let on just enough.

As we invent and create and blog, the power of this one human mind, one human kind, begins to trickle into the world, and everything it touches shines. Outsiders succumb to the sharp glare of our ideas, they stop resisting and let us in. Let us deep within. And we transform them.

We transform them.

As news of our power to heal grows, even corporations take notice, and in exchange for our ideas, converged knowledge, they fund and help sustain our community. They aren’t allowed to visit us. They cannot send anything inward, they are only allowed to capture what we send out. David is there, to make sure they do right by us. And if they don’t, we cut their circuit. We appreciate their sustenance, but don’t need their gifts.

It is the end of the day, my first day in this world, and I am at peace, a peace I never knew.

My soul and heart are rested, mended, my mind on fire.

This is the place where I feel most alive.

Locke Locks In On Blogging

There's a wonderful interview with Chris Locke on Marketplace Morning Report that hit the airwaves this morning, tickling the ears and brains of some 2,000,000 listeners (yup, I said two million).

You can listen to the RealAudio stream here or go to the marketplace.org homepage and click on "The Best of Today's Morning Report."

Chris may not tell you, but I will, that Tess Vigeland was so jazzed about the blogging topic that she got the segment extended from something like two minutes to a full six or seven minutes.

The best thing about this is that Chris Locke is one of our own. Tireless champion of the net and weblogs. If you're tired of non-bloggers talking about what we do, go take a listen to Chris and drink up the good news. While you're at it, blog the hell out of this.

stop trying (and get real)

RageBoy takes Mike Sanders to task about his latest generalizations and misobservations. I'm glad to see those I respect popping a vein over this guy. What Mike's doing is destructive, for all the reasons I mentioned here and then some. Not least of all is his binary (thank you AKMA) notion of "Truth." Thank you RageBoy for that much deserved ass whippin'.

it's all about the phonalogue

I mentioned in this post that I’d started talking realtime, over the phone, to some of my blogger friends. Haven’t gotten to everyone yet; the list is long. The calls unfolded in assorted ways, but each one has been rich in meaning and a familiarity that has me a little shaken. Buzzed. Flying high even. Six cups of coffee buzzed-high. Words to ideas back to Words again, the spoken takes wing from the written, and back again.

I’ve said it this way before:

“Our talks are conversation on the fast track. Formalities gone, veils dropped, history already shared, why not dig right into the present moment? Why not get real, and real quick? Let's tell it like it is. I already have, and you like me so far.”

I think there’s a story in this, that some of us are compelled to take blogging off the screen and back around to one-on-one conversation, hypercharging an old medium with a new context for interaction.

How many others have back circuited their blogging relationships to the telephone? Have you called another blogger? Feel like sharing your story? Let me know if I can use your name, blog, and experiences for something I'm writing – for publication here or elsewhere. And I'll keep you posted on any progress. Deal? Leave comments or send to ewriter@bellsouth.net.

On the horizon, a blogger con-call? Why not. It ain't blogcon, but it has promise. Takin’ the party to the party line.

so fucking timely

One of the beautiful things about blogs is their timeliness--especially compared to traditional media. No editors to run things through. No fact checking to be done. No interviews needed, because bloggers are living and blogging in the moment, on the scene. Everywhere someone is blogging. Evidence, Shelley Powers was the first to report on the San Fran earthquake yesterday, because, well, it shook her apartment. Congrats to Shelley for scooping major news outlets.

Halley Suitt Interviews David Weinberger

Great post on Halley's blog today in which she interviews David about SPLJ. One excerpt from David:

"Business is anal-perfective. It's incapable of admitting that its products aren't perfect even though we all know that. Marketing just naturally assumes we want to see idealized images, and we have learned not to trust those images. But slickness on the Web feels out of place."

He took the words right outta my mouth. Again.

this morning I...

Dropped off my darling at her school. Went to the post office to mail some important bills (late), slipped them in the mail box, then remembered they had no stamps. Asked inside what to do. they said to wait; they'll come back to your house soon. Launched an investigation into the package I spent $32 to mail to china two weeks ago, which has disappeared in chinese customs or somewhere along the way. Felt glad I hadn't put anything even more personal in the box. Wrote a survey results document for work; filled out billing and project forms for work; started a byline article for work; noodled on old writing projects that are late and stale. Called orkin to make sure the termite bond on our house was paid. Read weblogs--akma, joho, matrullo, my own. Wrote emails. Started writing this. Ate a turkey sandwhich. Wondered why the squirrels keep eating my house. Ate a salad. Turned on TV and turned it off again. Did more work for work. Wished i had better food in the house.

Does it get any duller than this?

he's at it again

Tom Matrullo posts a wonderful response to Sanders' latest name-calling escapade, in which he tries to oversimplify the elegant insight of AKMA on the complexity of the problems in the middle east. Tom's friendly and direct response to Mike's latest attack (and they are, in my opinion, attacks) was a thing of beauty. Me? I chose on 4/21 (post-blogskining, that link isn't working) to put it another way, asking Mike to remove me from his blogroll. Because I think what he is doing is wrong. I'm not sure why Mike blogs--most of what he does is twist the meaning of what others say and respond to that "new" meaning in a way furthers his personal blogging agenda, generating links, whether it's through Tiger Woods' girlfriend or the Arab-Israeli conflict. Not to say he doesn't care deeply about Israel. I would not question his personal dedication to his cause. It's just the way he's going about it that's preverse.

I've stated what I think is wrong with that blog before, but will state it again:

-Labeling another blogger as "pro" or "anti" anything--especially anything that strikes at the core of their personal belief system--without giving backup is wrong.

-Picking apart bloggers who are brave enough to get personal on their own blogs without daring to get personal yourself is wrong.

-Posting inflamatory comments on your blog without a comment mechanism for others to contribute to the conversation or defend themselves is wrong. [oooh, but it does get you linked.--ed.]

-Using your blog to deliberately inflict pain on others is wrong.

-Using a global medium to state your views without acknowledging the global context and ramifications of what you say is wrong.

-Accusing others of being unfair and insulting when you practice the same regularly is wrong.

I

ache

CNN - Upsell? Like Hell!

I don't know about you, but when I've had something online for a long time, I really don't like to be told I have to pay for it. New features? Yeh, I usually ante up. But not for something you used to give me--something that doesn't really cost you anything extra. Especially news. Haven't we learned our little lessons there?

Well, morbid curiosity led me to click on the Lion bites the zookeeper's arm off story at cnn.com just now.

Not too much information there. The zookeeper had been showing her family around. Big lion with big teeth severed her arm at the elbow. She's in serious condition. The lion's future is uncertain. Very sad. Indeed.

So sad that I really wanted to see the video of it. So, like I've done a hundred times before, I click the video link. And I get this little beauty. Huh? I can't see the video unless I pay? Hello? No free trial for me either. I know what free trials mean--mean's it's gonna cost me once I get used to it.

But the best part is, go to properties and see what the web smarties at CNN named the file - "cnn_upsell.html". Isn't that precious? And all this time I thought they were doing it to provide "more video at a higher quality than ever before."

Transparent. Bullshit. Keep your video, CNN.

I'll read it on the blogs next time.

journey

Tired. raw, nerves exposed, ready-set-hurt-me, take me down, don't take me down. Vulnerable, aching, wondering, open spaces, expansive, engulf me. Take my soul, don't take my soul, Leave me, keep me, caught in the current, sinking, fingertips break the surface, one last grasp at nothing, hopeless, helpless, the freedom of loss, the agony, my own loss, loss of self. If I go and come back, who will I find? she, me, empty still? Truth, lies, blindsided, rewind the movie, slowly, watch again, still don't see. Flying now, soaring, exploring, unending sky rolled in clouds, taste, sweet cream, not my dream. Until.

those who can do AND teach

A mini blogtank so to speak has sprung up to take care of AKMA's blog. This is the most beautiful thing I've seen out here in a while. Not only is Dorothea Salo taking care of business at AKMA's place, but she's TEACHING how to do it by blogging her remake. Others have started pitching in--Jonathon Delacour and Mark Pilgrim among them--and it's turned into a U Blog University deal. Wow. Crap. Consider the implications. Our kids attending AKMA's university located on a blog that Dorothea built. Ya baby!

Um, in case you guys haven't noticed, I tried to skin this thing, and it could use a little help--especially the archives page, which looks exactly like it did before, because I have no idea what to do. But that's okay. I can wait. Someone mentioned spare change. I can come up with spare change. Keep it in mind. There's other functionality I'd like, but have no idea how to make work.

In the mean time, I'll read along and try to learn something.

the reign of estrogen

Women going it alone. They now amaze me. I'm in my second month of single-motherhood-for-the-moment, with George in Hong Kong, and I have a new appreciation for women who are thrust into the single-mother game. Especially women who are mothers of daughters. For really scientific reasons (so says me).

Look, the absence of testosterone in a household, combined with an overabundance of estrogen, is just not a good thing. I've seen it in companies I've worked for. Those places where the first meeting in the morning means two or three women crying, or at least one of them walking out in a fit of rage, punctuating their departure with a slammed door.

Women-dominated companies, like women dominated households, have some special challenges, and you can call me crazy all you want, but the truth of the matter is the truth of the matter. Ying to yang, man to woman, father to daughter, mother to son, these are incredibly important relationships. And when one part of the equation is out of balance, everyone in the vacinity of a hurling Barbie Doll pays the price.

I'm convinced that estrogen needs testosterone to bounce against. Without it, the power of estrogen takes over, turns you into someone you really don't recognize. Mirror mirror, where did my man-half go? The changes in my daugther--and her relationship with me--over the last month are nothing short of scary. Since when did I live with a teenager? I thought she was four. And yesterday, when she tried to take a chunk out of my arm with her teeth, I realized, yes, she still is four. She's just part of this estrogen storm that has taken over our house.

Is it that she wouldn't dare with her father home? Maybe. But to me, it feels very physical, a real imbalance, a gush of energy with nothing to soak it up, spilling everywhere, until she storms upstairs, yells, "FINE THEN!" and slams her door. Always making sure to open it and add, "I'm NEVER speaking to you AGAIN."

So single mothers, you get my personal "How in the hell do you do it" award. No trophy or anything. Just amazement.

Come home soon, Papa.

the belch heard round the world

More convergence of realworld and online ties today. My family--daughter, husband, and me--spoke for the first time over the net, him in Hong Kong, us here in Georgia, thanks to Yahoo IM's Talk feature. He finally found a cybercafe barely quiet enough to hear us, and my laptop finally cooperated.

The result was an amazing (to me) family dialogue taking place on opposite sides of the world as we lived our lives in our normal abnormal way. Different from the phone? Yeh, it felt different. Some twisted kind of speaker phone is the best analogy. Maybe because I realized that, out of a PC on an Island in Asia, my daugher's belch rang out loud and clear, for all to hear.

"Daddy, did ya hear my burp? Did ya daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie. I heard your burp."

What's not to love about that?

talking live and unplugged

Funny thing about blogs and voice, I mean, that we don't have any spoken voice here, but we talk our asses off. Recently, I've had a chance to talk to three popular bloggers--Chris Locke, Elaine, and Halley Suitt by phone.

Why these three? I'm not sure, really. They were destined in some way, so much parallel thinking and talking that we might have exploded if we didn't start sharing some inflection and affection in real time.

In each case, my time on the phone with these friends has amazed me. What have we done here among the blogs? Are we jumpstarting friendships that would have existed anyway, had we lived in the same town, run into each other at a conference, worked at the same company?

Is it deeper than that? The shortest talk I've had with a blogger has lasted about 1/2 hour, the longest well over an hour.

Our talks are conversation on the fast track. Formalities gone, veils dropped, history already shared, why not dig right into the present moment? Why not get real, and real quick? Let's tell it like it is--why not? I already have and you like me so far. Rejection isn't much of a possibility, or you would have tuned out long ago.

And isn't that so nice.

As Halley and I talked, we tried to figure out why it is that we'd go to the matt willingly for any of our blogger friends, take hits that we wouldn't take for most of our offline friends. Why so passionate over some words in a template? Why do I feel like I've known these friends all my life?

I think it's based, in part anyway, on what we ourselves let go on our blogs. Since I've shared most of my life, even if compressed and scattered, here on allied, I feel that somehow you all have lived it with me. Co-conspirators indeed. You *were* there when my dad died in 1969, even if only for the re-lived version; I was there when Halley's dad died recently, even though I live 1,000 miles away; And Chris's heart? Talk about living it.

The bonds of blogs are growing tighter in a way I certainly never imagined. The roles we have played in one another's online lives have reached critical mass, and now we are beginning to see leakage into the RealWorld. I am watching, amazed, as I find myself in the middle of this powerful web, reaching into the RealWorld, as strong lines of silk weave back to and among my blog selves.

Digital jumpstarting analog.
A universe unfolding.

This call may be recorded for training purposes

THANK YOU for the comments on fixing this place up. I'm still having trouble on one thing--getting my permalinks to work. What am I doing wrong?? I tried starvosthewonderchicken's suggestion, but I guess I didn't do it right--OR is it something with my archive page (which I guess I still have to skin). Remind me not to do this again. Help?

new canvas

one note--please don't ignore my cry for help below. archive trouble post-skinning.

Now. Wow. I'm in a new house and I'm all disoriented. Same shit laying all over the place, but this new blogskin feels funny. I'm sure I lost a box or two in the move.

Canvas. Look at it this way, I tell myself, it's like a new canvas, a new palatte.

We'll see how long it lasts.
Not that I loved my other template. it was stale.

but still

how do I write on this canvas?
Short bursts?
Golby-sized posts?

This is not my beautiful font...

Well, I'll play around with this. Any opinions at all, leave them in the comment box assuming it works, or email me.

night ya'll.

Send Skin Help

Where the fuck have my archives gone?

Does anyone know? Okay--here's what I'd LIKE this new skin to do. Let me copy the table that says "archives," paste it beneath the long "stuff" table, and have all my archives hang out down there, lower right netherregion, til they get long enough to care about, by which time I should be hosting my own blog, like I could ever figure that out.

So, what code do I copy, where do I paste it, and how do I get my archives to show up in the table?

Have these colors made anyone actually puke yet? Please, I'd love to know. I may add a scoreboard.

I liked it til I started adding in all my clutter.

God I wish I could design.

Ah well, we all have our gifts, eh?

Thank you for obliging me.

I would so appreciate your generous assistance.

jjjjjjjj.

Today

blogskinning in progress.... eeeeeeeeeee!