I am sorry it has been so long. Actually, for most of the summer, I was walking around former colonial superpowers and didn’t have a computer. Then I downloaded–there’s no reason, I just did–something from AOL called Helix, which, as AOL promised, let me “multitask in fewer clicks and with fewer hassles”, mainly by crippling Windows* so absolutely that two baffled computer scientists, after two or three hours of tinkering, looked up and asked, “You backed up your data, right?”
Anyway, I have also, for various reasons, been thinking of finally officially closing down the blog, since several print publications with subdomains of their own have stepped into the whole “clever dinner party guest at a vast, faceless table” with great dispatch and enthusiasm (look above for VQR giveaway) and will probably trundle along for at least a few years before post-aperitif fatigue hits. If I did read blogs, I would read those, but lately I’ve been disentangling myself from the grid, since marching around my old daily online reading circuit seems to crescendo into a Nickelodeon-viewing level of overstimulation for me. Maybe it’s because after your twenties, when your thoughts are a crucial part of the public discourse, you’re supposed to descend into a period of hiberation until you’ve saved up enough opinions to be a blowhard through most of your dotage? Maybe it’s because I’ve finally had a karaoke breakthrough? (With Joni Mitchell, yet.) I don’t know.
That said, the decision to close down occurred at exactly the same time a bunch of strangers, unprompted, came forward to say they liked it and not to Helix the whole thing**. So I’m going to leave it up for the archives if you want them, and do mostly what I have been doing lately, which is to give you giveaways, slap up some Speedreaders, and let you know what I am doing in the world of print. (This is today’s review, and my debut, in the LAT, and I have some other things coming along soon, god willing.) If I want to tell you something or you want to tell me something, give me a call or messenger me a cuneiform tablet and I’ll see what I can do.
(But, if I were going to have a last personal side note, I would probably say something about, oh, I don’t know, a nonevent this morning’s at a farmer’s market [or Baltimore's version a farmers' market, which is located in an underpass, with an assemblage of rutebagas and used condoms and the aroma of crab cakes and urine]. So I am standing at the smoked-things stall when I heard this grating voice to my left. The voice happens to belong to a former boss, but believe me, it would be grating on anyone, even on someone I loved, and it’s unfair to bring it up but I just did. I didn’t realize it was said boss until I saw they were running out of sourdough to my left and I had to dash and could put grate to face. But here’s note on ignoring former employees whom you know very well are people you know when they are standing next to you and you are being too slow with the smoked-things guy: I’m not sure you should pointedly ignore anyone you know after the age of 13, but ignoring former employees, unless they stole from you or urinated on something, is fired–not least because the best way to torture a former employee is by being the bigger person. Seriously, I have had umpteenth teachable moments with this boss that have yet to take root in any action that I can see. Step it up, lady; I’m not made of patience. As anyone knows, taking it upon yourself to mortify a former boss with a huge hug and sparkling small talk gets old.
Anyway, I’m already the bigger person.
Okay, one last time:
* Please, Mac people, do not tell me to get a Mac. I don’t care.
** Before you tell me to get a Mac again because you haven’t been paying attention, I don’t care.