Is blogging about tumblr, or twitter, or linkedIn a layer of meta or a level of dorkiness henceforth unplumbed? Well, here goes.  I have been considering joining twitter, but have been severely advised against it by my girlfriend, and friends.  I'm not really sure what the point would be.

I just got an email from linkedIn...now, I understand they are trying to make social networking professional, but, y'all, I'm unemployed and fairly unprofessional.  I commend their efforts to rescue us from myspace (or perhaps from awkward networking events).  But, really, I've very little interest in it.

That said, while going through the tumblr exercise, I too heart tumblr, it delivered perfectly what I wanted and was free as that tiny twitter bird.  Which is not free.  Perhaps free as the geese and pigeons around the lake.  This metaphor has goen on way too long and isn't working.

Anyway, with this blog it has been a long and peculiar progress, I think it's the social media platform I've stayed with the longest, I recall forgetting I had a blog somewhere in 2007 and then rediscovering it and being so amused.  It's fundamentally mastubatory, sitting here writing into the abyss of the internet for days and days, but isn't that what I used to do in that room in San Francisco, write into the darkness of the night and the abyss of my hard drive hoping someone someday would read and understand.

And I hope it does not go too far into the "abyss-adjacent" (thanks V. Place for that dear phrase) of corporate sponsorship in that I've been going back through and adding amazon tags to things discussed in previous posts.  I feel I must disclose, and apologize as well, and add that I'm not going to just start plugging random things like Twilight.  Which, actually, I just did...aie.....and the dish ran away with the spoon! 



Here's a Mark Ryden video to comfort you from the horror of meta-implosion.

I realize, reading back (now that's a whole fist of mastubatory) that I talk a fair bit about pop culture and products anyway.  I guess it's the old punk in me that's a bit itchy-uncomfortable about the implications of the process. 

My big score of the week was discovering my old punk sweatshirt in my newly recovered car, along with a bunch of old tapes that Katie had bought and stashed there.  She marched off to school wearing it and looking all kinds of adorable.  And, really, punks not dead but it's in a cage covered with blood.