Scott Walters from the University of North Carolina at Asheville received a $5000 grant from the National Endowment for the Arts to support his <100K Project. He has spoken out so long for geographic diversity in American theater. I agree with Isaac - it's nice to see him get a chance to act on this theories. Best of luck to you Scott.
The comment function on Gasp! has always been a source of menial trauma for me. Am I supposed to acknowledge comments with another comment? Will I say something completely asinine in the comments and wreck my original intention for the piece? There are a hundred million things that can go wrong on a blog, and for good measure, I can list them. But I'll spare you from that nonsense.
I had to put comments on moderation because someone from a distant country was spamming me. It was not a spambot; I was not that fortunate. Instead it was a human being who kept writing ad comments. After analyzing my stats, it appeared that the human spambot - or supervisor - would revisit the spammed comment to make sure it stuck.
I don't have all day to monitor my comments, so I put them on moderation. I won't delete comments unless they are stupid and nonproductive. If it takes too long for your comment to actually appear, it means I spaced on approving it.
Sorry for the inconvenience. Please don't let the moderation thing scare you off.
I updated the last entry to reflect David Foster Wallace is actually named David Foster Wallace. Sorry for the error. My thoughts while writing that entry were on memorizing lines for a performance tonight.
Sure I was wrong about Wallace's name, but at least I got to play a murderer. Unfortunately, I got caught.
Please accept my apologies about the wrong name. I'm not sorry for killing that crazy character.
I've been "away" due to a death in my immediate family. Part of the delay in coming back to blogging has been my uncertainty about how to deal with what happened. Since I continue to be mixed about it, I'm opting to ice the discussion. I reserve the option to write about it at a later time.
Meanwhile, Gasp is back. Give me a few entries to scrub the rust off of my keyboard.
Thanks for your understanding.
For those of you who were following Project 1968, you may be wondering why it hasn't been updated in a while. A family member was diagnosed with incurable liver cancer the last week of August, which was also the week of the 1968 Democratic Convention; hence my "vacation" from the Project.
It will pick back up again shortly. I apologize to people I've interviewed who are *still waiting* for the interview to appear on the site, and to those who were left with a bit of a cliff-hanger.
Every now and then I receive requests to review books via this blog. I don't mind receiving these emails since it lets me know what people are doing in the world.
It does bother me, however, that these blog requests differ radically from requests I receive through other means. The requests I receive via this blog are less professional. Perhaps the publicist or publisher think that bloggers are more informal, therefore they need to be addressed differently. I'm not sure.
For example, these requests try and entice me with a FREE COPY of the book. Please. The last thing I need are more books in my overflowing shelves. I don't review books because I want free copies of them. I review books because I love them. I want to tell the world about the fabulous book I just read. I want to talk about ideas and writing and structure. Reading a great book is a life-altering experience, and each time I crack open a review copy, I'm hoping that my life will change.
Those promises of a FREE COPY are enough to prevent me from acknowledging the request. It convinces me that you have no respect for me, the blog form, or even the writer you are trying to represent. As an author, I would die if my publisher or publicist sent out some of the emails I've received.
As well, many of these emails contain little information about the book. They only tell me the author and the title. As much as I despise press releases, at least they give a little more information about the book. In the absence of the book itself, releases help me determine if it's appropriate to review it.
I think what particularly disheartens me is that the most egregious emails I receive are from flacks trying get me to review theater books. I don't know what that says about attitudes about theater, or whether they think books by theater people are somehow different from regular authors. I can't imagine that theater reviewers receive such terrible invitations. But then again, maybe they do. After all, I've been away from that scene for a while.
So please be professional when sending out these requests. We all want to be treated with kindness and respect. I can't guarantee that I will review your book if you follow these instructions. But at the very least, your email won't leave me with a feeling of sleaze.
Jethro and I got married over the weekend. I'm now a country-fied wife. As I told friends over the weekend, now I have to go huntin' something or another to prove it.
It was a wonderful ceremony and reception afterward. Debra Jo White, former backup singer to Lynyrd Skynyrd performed during the service. She sang "Love Me Tender" which made me cry a little. Okay, I cried a whole lot. Especially when Dad gave me away.
Does anyone remember this? I think it was back in the late 80s/early 90s when a New York theater critic said that the cast (or show) should be steamrolled? It came up in a conversation yesterday and I was trying to remember which critic said it and about which show. I seem to recall that it was a Broadway musical, but I can't quite be sure. I would love to see a copy of the review if anyone has it.
Thanks!
Typepad is having problems right now. It hasn't affected this site as much as Project 1968, where Janine's entries have disappeared into the ether. I'm guessing this is a temporary problem. The worrisome part is that I contacted Typepad yesterday afternoon, when I first discovered the issue. I have yet to hear back from them.
I'm not sure this is going to post, so I'm going to hold off doing anything until things change.
Although I didn’t take part in the discussion, I just wanted to say a “blog bye” to Scott Walters. I quit reading most theater blogs for a long while there, and only occasionally have breezed through a handful of them.
I still hung out at Scott’s, though I wouldn’t take part in any discussions.
Best of luck in the future, Scott.
Since Joshua has 'fessed up, I will as well.
I do apologize for those who've been checking in on a regular basis. I'm not ignoring you. I have plenty to say about many things, and I even have a few announcements. But the thing is, the project has developed a following. And since I make at least two entries a day - sometimes as many as five a day - that is where my energy is going right now.
This isn't to say that I'm closing up shop here. Not at all. But I've had to scale back a bit here to give the project its due.
So... in the next few hours and days, I've scheduled some posts to pop up while I'm doing other things. Hopefully this will catch us all up, and then I'll resume my regular posting. And I do mean regular.
Thanks for your understanding.
Someone who responded to my last post also decided to chat about it on another board.
He writes: "What's sad is that I don't think she gets my sarcasm."
His posts, of course, were delightfully accompanied by another who decided to call me a twit.
Nice.
First off, I'm not an idiot. I get your sarcasm. What's sad is that you obviously didn't understand that I was writing in a similar vein.
Secondly, I don't respect anyone who decides to repost my stuff, talk smack about it and invites others to do so as well.
So, for people who don't get my sense of humor, I will now post a SARCASM ALERT.
It will be accompanied by a club. ♣
When I am serious, I will post a diamond symbol. ♦
When I am angry, I will post a spade symbol. ♠
It's unfortunate that I have to create a visual icons for the clueless. It's also too bad that we live in such a society that makes people more inclined to think that others are idiots.
Of course, when they prove it, well...
I'm still here. Project 1968 has expanded a great deal - and in a way I hadn't forseen when I first started the site. Most of my time has been completely devoted to content, book discussions, responding to emails, the journals and diaries of the girls, and a slew of other stuff. Though I've been reading what's been going on elsewhere, I haven't felt connected enough to respond in a meaningful way.
The hardest part about writing the Project is that I have to live in 1968 and 2008 at the same time. It gets confusing. I've forgotten to pay bills and when I do write checks, I date them 1968. While I was conducting research in Austin back in 2005/6, I suspended my blog for a few months to completely immerse myself in the time period.
I don't feel the need to do that again. But I don't want to let a long time lapse before writing here. So please bear with me during this period. Balance is forthcoming.
I'm not intentionally ignoring you. I'm sick. It's a virus, according to the doctor. I've had it since Sunday.
I'll be back soon. Hopefully, tomorrow.
Meanwhile, Project 1968 continues with updates twice daily.
I decided - somewhat reluctantly - to join Facebook. Since I was a part of the Friendster fiasco back in 2003 or so, I've looked askance at social networking sites. It just seems so cult-like and conformist. But other people are on them, so off I go.
Someday people will view these things in the same way we view people who jammed themselves into telephone booths back in the 50s. They called it phone book packing.
I think the best thing that came out of the Friendster period of time was flashmobbing. I took part in flashmobbing the Toys R Us store in Times Square. About a hundred of us came together and bowed prayfully to the giant dinosaur. Those are the days I miss most.
Anyway, if you'd like to be my Facebook friend, look me up. I'm also on My Space - which has been another big secret.
Last year fizzled out - no? Certainly seems like it. I had to make a few offline adjustments to my priorities and projects. Creativity is a good thing, and I've decided to invite more of it into my life. So along with lengthier content, I have a few other surprises up my sleeve.
The best part, of course, is being able to throw off a few of last year's shackles. Some of you out there know what I'm talking about.
And so, let me be the last to wish you a Happy New Year.
This is what happens: Every time I take a vacation, I have a hard time getting back on the treadmill.
It's a heck of a time for me to have no motivation. I made a promise to myself that when I came back from vacation, I would slow down. This is part of my overall plan to not do so much; not read so much; not do anything.
My goal for next year is to scale back in some areas so I can pay proper attention to what matters. I'm launching a project in January, which will eventually take most of my time. I'll talk about it more in the coming days. Sorry to be vague right now.
I'm still doing reviews. I haven't posted links for many of them. Over the next few days, I'll try to catch up on that. The reason I post links isn't to brag about how many reviews that I do. Rather, it's a nice way of letting authors know that they have been reviewed. Authors search for their names on the net, and voila. That seems to be the way that authors figure out that they've been reviewed. Clipping services are way passé.
I might post my New Year's Resolutions soon. Some of them may surprise you.
"No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one."
---Elbert Hubbard
I arrived back from Myrtle Beach several days ago. It was a quiet respite, almost eight days without the internet. It was difficult at first, and I'll admit to checking my email via my cell phone on occasion. But once my cell phone battery died, I had to go cold turkey. It was painful.
I'll post pictures of my pain shortly.
When I first got to my parents' house, I put the phone and computer cords in a closet so the cats wouldn't get to them. As soon as I did it, I forgot about it. Several days later, I looked for the cords and couldn't find them. At the time, it appeared that I left them back in Alabama.
On the ride home, my Mother phoned Jethro's prepaid Virgin Mobile phone to tell him that she found the cords. She express mailed them to me, just in time for Tuesday... Though nothing significant was scheduled to take place on that particular day. And nothing did.
My next few posts will take care of business, including a few things that happened while I was gone. I'll also pick a book from the very cool recommendations that were left during my absence. I've closed the last thread. You snooze, you lose.
Actually I just need some time to do a little research on the selections. I have a terrible feeling that I'll decide to read all of them. Consider me compulsive that way.
I'll be on vacation from November 24 to December 2. Rather than lining up posts or doing a "Best of Gasp," I am asking for book recommendations.
Which books are your favorites? What did you like about it? Why should I read it?
When I come back, I will choose the three more intriguing recommendations, hunt down the books and read them. So make me want to read it.
See you in a week.
My brief foray into the literary blogosphere has been depressing. Over the past few days, I’ve tried to follow a slew of discussions that made no sense. Lots of pretentious gibberish with no concrete ideas beneath it. Either that or the discussion turned into a recitation of facts that was clearly meant to benefit the blogger. with the better encyclopedia.
Then there were the flame wars that made the worst of the theatersphere look like a Disney spectacle. Anyone who insults a blogger’s family has no credibility. Period.
I was also disappointed in how many so-called literary bloggers react to posts they haven’t read. I’m convinced that these people are so excited to share what they know that they don’t take the time to read what they’re commenting on.
An example of this would be my original entry on Mailer. It was clearly an appreciation piece. It was not meant to be literary criticism. The fact that there were those who mistook it as criticism, and then decided that it was bad criticism leaves me dumbfounded.
Every now and then, I did bump into a literary blogger who chose to be a student of literature, rather than a bleeding deacon. I’ll add those blogs to my reading list.
But there were too few of them. Discussions of books and authors shouldn’t be used to pump egos and obscure ideas with useless verbiage. Last week, someone in the theatersphere asked why mainstream critic/bloggers don’t allow comments. After what I’ve seen, it’s no mystery.
Every Saturday morning, I go out for coffee. This has been my ritual since the late 90s. Usually I bring a book or two, along with a writing journal and even my laptop on occasion. I don’t like socializing during this time, as it is the only point in my week when I can relax.
One of the hardest parts of moving to a small town in Alabama is the lack of quality coffee shops. Notice that I didn’t say quantity of coffee shops. While there is no Starbucks here, there is a Books-A-Million coffee shop, along with one catering to Christians (which has lousy service), one for Hippies (that’s oddly uncomfortable and overpriced) and one that is almost perfect.
The almost perfect coffee shop would be better if everyone else didn’t think it was almost perfect. The place can get rather noisy, with a TV blaring and kids playing darts in the far corner of the room. If it was a little quieter, it would be absolutely perfect. Unfortunately, the kind of quiet I like probably means they wouldn't be in business long.
Last week, the Hippie Place moved to a new location. I had great hopes because the exterior of the building looked so old. It had heavy antique doors. I wanted the interior to match the classiness of the exterior.
But alas, as soon as I entered, I knew it was the same damn place. The inside looked exactly like the old shop, albeit the new location was bigger. Too bad it still looked like a tacky, bare stockroom.
I couldn’t bring myself to buy a cup of coffee. Instead, I headed for my almost perfect coffee shop. But the whole thing got me thinking: If I ran a coffee shop, how would I want it to be?
I’d want it to be the kind of place where people could read and write whatever they wanted. I would want it to be an intellectually-stimulated place where people could learn. Of course, there would be games for people to play. I’d want it to be dark, classy and cheap with damn good art on the walls.
And so… Some people’s blogs are classrooms. Some people’s blogs are soap-boxes and townhalls, I want my blog to be like a damn good coffee shop.
Hence the redesign.
New links – some familiar, some new. I’ll be putting up more links soon, but not too many. No need to overwhelm.
For my coffeeshop’s artwork, I’d encourage you to visit Prague Daily Photo. I can’t remember how I stumbled upon it, but I’ve been hooked ever since. A visit a day is like having cool coffee shop art on the walls.
For reading material, scroll down a bit. On the right, you’ll see the front page of an American newspaper. If you click on it, the image expands, allowing you to read it. Click further and you’ll be able to actually read that paper. Newspapers rotate, so each visit will show a different newspaper.
Simon, that fabulous 70s/80s game is just above it. It doesn’t increase my stats or benefit me if you play. I just happened to love the game as a kid and wanted to share it. If you choose to play at work, you should know that it makes noise. So don’t let your boss catch you.
Yes, there are ads. I’m experimenting with it. If you have any comments, feel free to email me.
More changes are forthcoming. Soon, I’ll be able to talk about them. For now, kick back and chill out.
This one involves illegal distribution of my essay. I've just sent off a Cease and Desist Letter to a certain University. I'll let you know how that turns out.
Rather than put the link up where the illegal distribution is taking place, let's take a look at the Copyscape search. I won't help their illegal distribution.
By the way, I've had a number of educational institutions request permission to use my material. So I'm not averse to working with people on this kind of thing. But without permission? And with distribution? I don't think so.
It's the second to the last result. Click on the image to get a full view.
Once again, I've caught someone stealing my content. It sucks. This time, it was 500 words of a playwriting essay posted on Gasp. Direct quote. Oh, of course, people think that they're covering their asses by citing my site as being the original source. They're not. It's called theft, especially when you extensively quote an article and post it somewhere else.
If I had ads on this site, it would be taking money out of my pocket. Instead, it's simply pissing me off.
Enough is enough.
Readers are on notice. I am policing this site with extraordinary vigilance. So far, I've been reluctant to call people out who are stealing. No more. From this day forward, I will show you exactly who is stealing my content.
Compare my article with the extensively quoted stolen stuff.
Blog theft sucks. Is your work being copied? Find out like I did.
I've experienced a ton of resistance lately to writing in this blog. It appears that I'm still sorting through what happened a few months ago. I could say that I've censoring myself for fear of being pilfered again. It wouldn't be a lie. Writers have to trust their readers. When that trust gets abused, it takes time to heal.
There have also been a few ongoing issues. One is that I'm writing for money now. When I come up with an intriguing idea for an entry, Jethro gets excited and says, "Why don't you write that up and submit it to...." And there you go. In a way, I'm grateful for having a steady stream of good ideas. But it's bad for blogging.
I'm also working on a project now with a January deadline. My thoughts are geared towards completing it, which has made blogging difficult.
So that's it. I do plan on posting on a regular basis again, but I needed to acknowledge these issues.
I spent an evening archiving entries from Gasp. Copying and formatting them to their new home gave me an opportunity to look over what has transpired during the past year. I also copied over the comments as well.
Using the wide lens of time provides perspective. Some entries I thought were well-written. Their intent was clear and honest. Whatever I was expressing was so important to me that I was willing to drop pretense and just say it. I didn’t care what readers thought. While writing those entries, I remembered how focused I was on the words and how I was caught up in the writing process.
And then… There were the theater entries, which were phony. With those entries came the responsibility of belonging to a community and making sure that I could cover my bases if attacked. My sole focus had more to do with trying to get a few key people to like me. People who, in hindsight, I don’t think would ever like me. And in the end, I’m not sure I liked them. C’est la vie.
Over the weekend, I also considered the life span of Gasp. In the beginning, blogging fed my creativity. Then I switched to blogging about theater, which siphoned off my energy. I’m still trying to figure out how that happened and where my energy went. No doubt, it had to do with the politics of community.
One last thing. I noticed how my very best entries got little response from that community. Yet readers who stumbled upon those entries, courtesy of Google, drop me notes and such to tell me that I struck a cord with them.
The moral of the story: If people don’t appreciate your work – find new people.
I haven’t taken anything down. A month ago, I stopped giving theater as an option in the category section. But it’s all still there. There’s no use denying history. Besides, some people have found those old theater articles and essays useful.
I got word late last week that Newhouse News Service is putting my reviews on the wire. Newhouse owns 26 newspapers in the U.S., and I’m guessing that other newspapers throughout the country also subscribe to their service.
If you stumble upon one of my book reviews in your local paper, I'd love to know about it. Please email me using the link on the left.
Thanks.
I’ve been in a no-thought zone for the past few weeks. Part of it is because I’m still shifting from the “old online life” to the “new online life.” Having my own voice is an adjustment. It makes me realize how often I got caught up in reacting rather than acting. It became normal to react to what other people wrote on their blogs, which left me with no original thoughts of my own.
Well, I had original thoughts, but I rarely wrote about them here. Or so it seems...
Anyway, my new life is good. Here are the details.
1) I’m taking an online writing class. So far, it’s been a good experience. It’s funny how I crinkle at anything that reminds me of my old life. We’ve had one good critique session which has caused me to reflect on my previous experiences with group criticism. I’ve become acutely aware of how criticism has often been used to stifle progress instead of enhance it. Criticism served as an excuse. “We’re not going to produce your work and here’s why.”
No one’s writing is perfect. There are good points and bad points to everything. Just because something is judged to be faulty doesn’t mean that the entire work is trash. In theater, I had the feeling that scripts had to be above criticism. Now that I’m no longer a part of that scene, I can see how it had little or nothing to do with the so-called criticism. Rejection had everything to do with everything else.
2) I have very little patience for phony criticism. People approach criticism with an “I’m better than you and I’m going to tell you what’s wrong with your writing” attitude annoy me. They always have and they always will.
3) I’ve taken on extra writing assignments. I don’t know why I’ve done it, but there it is. Jethro’s right. I always have to be busy with something.
4) I’ve started a new project. No, that’s not entirely true. It’s more like a revamp of an old one. I’m still working out my writing & research schedule. Once I figure out my time issues, I can attempt to compartmentalize it into a timetable.
So that’s what’s been happening, which is to say nothing and everything.
I've had massive deadline issues this week. (Three already, and I've made two of them as of 6:42 p.m.) I have been thinking about your email and wanted to get back to you as soon as I could.
It seems, as more emails come in, that people think that I'm leaving strictly because of a civility issue. That's not true. I don't know why people are so hung up about that. Maybe because so many others before me have walked away from the group precisely for that reason.
I do have my own reasons for leaving. The post previous to my goodbye will spell out a chunk. Maybe a few people have a profanity filter and are unable to load it into their computer. Oh well.
The following would constitute a representative sampling of why I'm leaving.
A) I've got a massive project with a January deadline and I gotta get going on it.
B) Readers for my site are largely coming from the book world because of my reviews. I know because they email me to tell me about it.
C) Despite Alabama's crackling theater scene, I don't see all that much theater. I don't write that many plays anymore. In fact, my career in theater is over. If people want to perform what I've already written, fine. But I'm not submitting work, I'm not actively pursuing any aspects of a theater career. So calling myself a theater blogger is pointless, untrue and a waste of everyone's time.
D) I want to focus on other areas of writing. I don't want to get pulled into a world where I don't belong. No offense, but my sensibilities, thoughts and interests have changed.
I could go on and on and on, but that's the bottom line. For years I've talked about leaving. Now, I'm actually doing it.
I don't know if that answers your question. If you have any others, please let me know. Watching the evolution of the theater blogosphere has been a fascinating journey. I was always afraid of discussing ideas because of shyness and lack of confidence. Being a part of it has given me confidence - and sometimes that confidence is just what you need to take the next step.
So it's been a very good place to learn. And now it's time to leave.
Warmest regards,
Laura
I'm back. It's going to take me a while to answer emails and get caught up. I owe a Real Estate Pros recap, and there's a bunch of loose ends to tie up. A whole lotta new stuff to write about.
Jethro and I drove more than 1500 miles since Sunday. For the most part, he did the driving. I was responsible for yelling "WATCH OUT!" every so often. We made plenty of pit stops along the way.
It was fun, in the same way dance marathons are fun. You get the idea.
On Saturday, I'll be going back on the road. Up yonder north, where I hear it's not snowing any longer. Jethro and I have to pick up my Nana's furniture and travel the countryside with it.
The trip will go something like this:
In light of these treacherous plans, I'm going to re-run a few entries from the past that I've long since deleted from the net. These posts are mostly for entertainment value only.
Hopefully, I'll be able to do my regular Real Estate Pros update Saturday evening. Hotels get cable television, last time I checked.
I crashed a writing group last weekend. They were meeting at a coffee shop. I overheard them talk about writing, publishing and books. They laughed. Alot. There was a feeling a warmth amongst them. I wanted to be a part of it.
So I screwed up the courage, ignored my messy hair and unshaven legs. (Why did I choose to wear those cut-off shorts?) And I introduced myself.
They gave me a big ol' southern welcome. As it turns out, one of them got a publishing deal and they were celebrating with cake and gifts for the newly-minted author. During the official group meeting, one of the members sat next to me and explained the proceedings. The group was formed to support each other; provide wisdom; teach the business of writing and socialize.
After spending a Saturday afternoon with them, I thought about blogging and theater. I thought about the never-ending arguments that create heat but no light. The US versus THEM. I thought about negativity and constant complaining about the state of American theater.
Then I considered this new writing group. I thought about how supportive they were of each other, how a few of them had been nominated for major awards and one or two had written NY Times best-sellers. I thought about how they don't take themselves seriously and how happy they were.
Of course there's an audience. Of course you can be on the Bestseller list. Of course you can make money writing. And of course, you don't have to be a big sell-out to do it all.
When I taught meditation back in NYC, I used to tell my students that I teach from a certain energy level. It isn't negativity. It isn't conflict or rage or envy either. If I felt those things within myself, I dealt with it on the side. I didn't bring it to class or let it cloud my relationships with students.
I'm fascinated with conflict. That's why I write drama. But I don't want to blog from that energy level. I don't want friendships soaked in negativity. I don't want to be dragged into funky shit.
Conflict leading to illumination is one thing. One-upmanship is something else.
I'm not having any more of it. If you know more than me about my experiences and opinions, bully for you. I'm not going to argue. That doesn't mean you're right, it just means that I'm saving my emotions for more worthwhile activities. Like stimulating conversations with warm, supportive and successful people.
It's the end of the party, and I've stayed far too long. The place is trashed. Others have echoed it over the past month or so. Those people can count me in. I fully agree.
I've circled around this entry for several weeks now, and it's time to set the boundary. Gasp has existed for four years. It will continue to exist. I'll continue posting on a regular basis. But it's just not healthy for me to constantly bemoan the state of theater, argue about meaningless shit and defend theater against perceived enemies.
I love books. I love writing, history and even theater.
Enough already.
Asthma is, of course, a bad thing. Unless you're an asthma specialist, and then you can make lots of money off it.
I'm on the mend - finally - after almost two weeks of not being able to breathe well. It's funny how the mind ceases functioning once the coughing starts... Funny as in interesting, not as in Ha, Ha.
Twenty pin pricks later, they've determined that I'm allergic to bahia grass and my own cats. But alas, who isn't allergic to cats? My reaction isn't strong enough for me to consider taking action on my cat allergy, other than keeping the place tidy and being conscious of their dander. While my asthma isn't triggered by my cats, it lowers my "threshold" for asthma attacks.
I don't know, friends. If people would only stop coughing on me, I probably wouldn't get sick. Then I probably wouldn't get asthma attacks. Period.
Any other cat owners out there have a cat allergy? I'd be interested in hearing how you manage it.
Anyhoo, my lack of writing had to do with not breathing. And let's just say, breathing is a good thing.
A summer cold has kicked my asthma into motion, so I'll be laying low today. I plan on spending most of my morning trying to figure out who gave me this cold, and how I can give them hell for it.
I will get to Marty's meme tomorrow, along with a few other things.
As I write this, I'm getting slammed with hits because Fox 5 Atlanta has linked to my blog. I don't know the protocol for this type of thing, just as I never know what to do when someone famous comments on Gasp. It's happened and I never point it out.
But if you are here because I blog the Real Deal, then welcome. I'd also like to point out a terrific site. Rexruff keeps very good track of The Real Deal and related news about it.
Anyway, have a look around, if you like. Or you can just look at (or link to) the show entries.
Congrats to Brett Blackledge at The Birmingham News for winning a Pulitzer.
It's about time Patrick Gabridge got a blog. Don't know who he is? Thanks Adam for letting everyone know.
(By the way, I interviewed Patrick for Quietpoly back in 2004.)
At the time, I remembered wondering how he was able to be a playwright and not live in New York. Heh.
Welcome Patrick!
I’ve been bummed out ever since Jethro mentioned that Cathy Seipp was gravely ill.
If you don’t know, Cathy was a prominent conservative blogger and National Review columnist. I came to know Cathy’s work because she hosted her blog on Journalspace, which is the former home of Gasp. Journalspace was an odd little blogging community a few years ago. Kind of bare bones, it was a place where everyone knew your (fake) name. It attracted a lion’s share of conservatives for some reason, along with the usual population of teens.
Hence, Cathy and her daughter. While I frequently disagreed with Cathy’s politics, I’d still visit her blog on occasion.
Jethro, who still keeps his blog on Journalspace, was a fan. He told me about Cathy’s appearances on Dennis Miller’s old show and even sent Cathy a private message to solicit an opinion. She responded with a kind note back to him. Ironically, they were corresponding on the topic of lung cancer. Little did anyone know...
I admit, I’ve clicked on Cathy’s blog for a few days now, waiting for the inevitable entry about her passing. Maybe it’s hit me a little harder because of both my Grandmother and Christopher’s recent deaths.
When I checked her blog this afternoon, it occurred to me how blogging itself is a legacy of moments and opinions. A living testament to a life lived.
It wasn’t my Grandmother’s cottage that meant the most to all of us, though it certainly held a great deal of memories. It was my Grandmother’s private papers, her attempts at writing her history and her notes to herself.
That’s what speaks to our survivors; what we spoke about when we were alive.
As more notes and entries are written about Cathy, it's good to remember that there's always a person behind the politics. And by all accounts, Cathy was indeed, a very good person.
Yesterday I began consolidating my blogs and websites. Lauraaxelrod.net ( a.k.a. Gasp!) will now be the main site for my work. More links will be added, and the archives will be a little fuller than before.
There are a number of reasons for this consolidation:
People who read my blog don’t realize that I do a bunch of other stuff with my writing, both online and off.
The concept of “specialization” in the arts is stupid. There, I said it.
It’s cheaper to maintain fewer sites. Spending less money means more time for writing.
It’s been both my experience and observation that writers compartmentalize the hell out of their lives. Day job during the day, artistic life on nights and weekends and never the twain shall meet. It’s ironic that it took moving out to the country to get out of that mindset.
I highly recommend Bloglines. It's a site that helps you keep your blogroll organized. With one click, you can read all your updated blogs.
It occurred to me that most people don't know I read their blogs, since Bloglines doesn't show up on stats. (Unless I click on a specific blog to comment).
That fact, coupled with Why I Read Blogs, may lead you to think I'm no longer reading your stuff... But I am. I'm still reading, trust me. The blogs I stopped reading probably don't miss me.
I’m having a hard time coming back to Gasp. Maybe its due to the death of my cat. Or maybe its because I’m grieving the death of my Grandmother. I feel like I’m on an alternate plane of existence. If I told you what I’m really thinking, you might think strange things about me.
It’s not that I’m depressed, but I struggle with finding meaning in debates. Philosophical discussions are empty, especially if they relate to matters of life and death. People tell me that, at some point, I’ll create powerful writing from everything that’s happened.
I don’t have time for symbolism or similes. I’m not sure any of us do.
What I’m trying to tell you is this: my tolerance for shooting the bull is even less than normal. Call it my Holden Caulfield moment.
The most influential people in my life have been the ones I've had the most sporadic contact with. I didn't see my first mentor all that often, but I still contemplate everything he ever told me about writing and life.
Another friend taught me about serenity through his persistant gratitude. I've since lost touch with him. Even when we lived in the same city, I only saw him every now and then.
So it was with my Grandmother, who kept believing in my writing when no one else did. She was 95 when she died, and lived on her own until the very end. Through various moves across the country, I tried to stay in touch with her as much as I could. She encouraged me to hop on a train and move to San Francisco, despite my lack of employment or housing. I guess she had complete faith in my ability to survive on my own.
When I moved back to New York, she gave me a small amount of money so I could buy furniture. She went to Walmart and bought towels. blankets and black socks so I could stay warm in the winter.
If you asked me if I was close to her, I don't know would've said back then. Nor do I know if she was close to me. But she must have been, since she plays such a prominent role in two novels and other assorted projects. I didn't realize the extent of her involvement in my life until I thought about it. She wasn't just a grandmother; she was far more than that.
Even in death, she's taught me a tremendous amount. Far more than I could detail here.
My Grandmother saw 17 presidents take office. She lived through the Great Depression, a number of wars, two waves of feminism, and mind-boggling technological changes. The Internet thrilled and frightened her. She insisted that I had a cold everytime I called her on my cell phone. It was usually just a bad connection.
I loved her, and I told her each time I said goodbye on the phone. But I never realized the impact she had on my life until now - artistically and spiritually. It's going to take a long time to understand the things she taught me.
My grandmother died last night.
More later...
I have to admit that Intermission is right. I feel pressured to respond to comments. It's my own thing. I don't want to be rude.
If you ask a blogger a question in the comments section of a post and the blogger doesn't respond, wouldn't you feel ignored?
This happened to me a few months ago on one of my favorite blogs. Through the comments section, I asked a question. No response. Since this kind of thing has happened before on this blog, I thought "screw you" and decided not to comment again. Ever.
And I never did again.
That's why I leave responses to comments. God knows, there's probably someone out there with a thicker streak of sensitivity than me.
Having a comments section is emotionally charged. For instance, there's the whole issue of having an empty comments section. No comments to a post implies that no one is reading your blog. C'mon, admit it. Doesn't your self-esteem rise just a little bit when you have 22 comments under your last post? Be honest, your human. It's only natural. If your blog ends up on an elite link list, don't you feel just a little better about life? I've watched people change when their blogs became popular. It can have a huge impact on your life, this little cheesy blogging thing. It may have started out as a hobby, but your value as a writer depends on how many people read your site. Didn't you know that????
In response to this, I've decided to start referring to myself as "my staff," as in, "My staff has decided to take a vacation," and "My staff thinks this-and-such". Everyone knows if that when one or more people think the same thing, a groundswell of support will follow.
Since I'm the head of my own staff - literally - I've decided to call myself brilliant. Actually, it was my staff who suggested it. And because I'm brilliant, you will think I'm brilliant. Your vote of brilliance will make others think I'm a genius. It will spread like wildfire. That's just the way these things work.
Thank you for your support.
More and more people are asking me why I don't allow comments on Gasp. Longtime readers will remember the problems I've had before with allowing comments. I'm not going to rehash them here. Those experiences, coupled with my recent issues with comment spam, have forced me to disallow that option.
But... I also miss the dialogue. A number of you have chosen to talk to me via email, and I've enjoyed getting to know a number of you. Unfortunately, emails limit conversations to the "private realm" and I would like to have more give and take.
So, we'll try it again. Several years ago, after my last comment fiasco, I posted an entry called "House Rules." I'm going to repost it again, since it still applies today.
House Rules
I’ve been keeping a journal for almost a year now and I’ve never had to delete comments. So, to keep everyone honest, here are a few of the reasons I’ll delete comments and why I deleted a whole series of them this afternoon.
1) I do not accept comments from ex-boyfriends. If I even suspect I’ve gone on a date with you, I’ll delete it. There are a few exceptions to this rule, such as former paramours that I’m currently in touch with. They know who they are. If I’m not in touch with you and you’ve claimed to be my soulmate, know that I’ve already found my soulmate and you aren’t it.
2) Anyone I suspect is off the deep end gets deleted. If you’re wondering about your current mental health, please seek attention from a competent therapist. If you think you might be mentally ill, you are.
3) No flaming me or being nasty to others. Name calling is stupid. Kumbaya people, Kumbaya.
4) No threatening or stalking. Cyber-stalking is a crime, and if you scare me in any way, shape or form, I'll delete and take it up with your ISP provider and law enforcement.
5) Make your point in less than 150 words. Free speech doesn’t mean a free ride. If you have that many thoughts on a topic, start your own blog.
You’re free to disagree with me or others, but just know that when you visit my site, you’re visiting my virtual abode and there are house rules. I don’t think this is too much to ask.
Now, after reading all that I'm sure you know what some of the issues were back then. Hopefully there won't be a repeat of them.
Thanks, and have a pleasant holiday.
I finally came back to Alabama last night, and hopefully you'll pardon my scruffy appearance. Perhaps someone could shoot me an email and tell me why sitting in a car for nine hours can be so tiring.
There's plenty to do here... Unpacking, deleting 150 emails from various accounts, sleeping. And a slew of work piled on my to-do list.
So much to say, so little energy... But posting will resume tomorrow. Thanks for your kind emails. (Oh, returning emails. That's another thing I gotta do...)
Last week it looked like my Dad had only a few days to live. Then he had surgery and was told he had cancer. They didn't know what kind of cancer it was. As it turns out, he had a benign form of cancer. With the tumor gone, there's no need for chemo. He's good to go.
My cat, unfortunately, is still sick. I don't know why pets sometimes take on the same sicknesses as those around them. He's going to get checked for Lymphoma on Friday. Still worried, but I'm hopeful he'll be cleared as well.
There's something about the death of a parent that can make one philosophical about life. Not that I wasn't stewing about things in general. In a few months I'll say goodbye to single life and hello to marriage. The realization that people change and grow older has settled with me for quite a while. I find myself taking long walks in the morning, fearful of time passing. I look back at what I've accomplished with some pride and disappointment. I'm not the person I used to be, and under these new "adult" circumstances I don't know who I am.
I'm in my 30s and still fighting the idea that I'm an adult. Being single meant that I could sleep on the floor, eat $1 chicken sandwiches at McDonalds and not be responsible to anyone. Being an adult means marriage and eventually, the loss of my parents.
I don't mean to get depressing, but those are the facts as I see them today. Time does pass. People eventually die.
I've been thinking of writers who have also been preoccupied with the passage of time. Kerouac comes to mind. His desire to capture a moment of time on the page is something that has always touched me. I, too, have attempted this in my prose work. And sometimes, when I look back at the things I've written, I can tell you the exact moment I wrote what is on the page. Poems, drafts of plays and other material serve as a scrapbook. A chapter of my story "Passing Through" was written at the San Bernadino Bus Station. By reading it, I can recapture who I was at that moment in time. It may mean nothing to anyone else, but to me, that's what writing means. It is about me talking back to myself.
Perhaps this goes against the ideas I written about earlier. But I can also tell you that I've often lost track of my own soul - especially in theater. I can't tell you how many times I've lost my soul to the mirage called "an audience". I've forgotten that the best writing is the type that has humanity behind it. Humanity - the stuff that can't be bought or sold.
Anyway, I'm on dial-up which has a tendency to cut out at inconvenient moment. Thanks for your kind words and emails. I do hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving.
