shuffle songs just pulled up this pharcyde classic and i feel compelled to share.”otha fish”
Monthly Archives: July 2009
– kvetch about dating and marital woes
– share uggs family histories and ongoing personal drams
– trade juicy gossip about famous people and schlubbs like us
– send each other everything funny … and presents
– talk about: careers, health, sex, friends, enemies, animals, and douchebags
– eviscerate those who did us wrong. or who we’re just jealous of
Some of it shallow, some of it deep. Anywhich way, we are always there for eachother. Even though we’ve never met.
It’s pretty cool. We’re like pen-pals on steroids. (Scratch that. Don’t you hate that term “on steroids”? businessspeak barf). Rather, we’re like Victorian-age letter-writers. United in our lives … and general dorkiness. Sharing all, despite never having met in person. That is about to change.
Laurie, a veritable powerblogger whose audience and influence far outweigh this little coterie ‘o col, will be speaking at a Mediabistro event here in New York on Tuesday. She is flying in over the weekend and we will take some time to chillax and tear up the town. I plan to take a break from my time in Monroe to gallivant with my lady love. So watch out NYC … it’s about to get hectic.
rufus made the nytimes interactive pup gallery. apparently the nyt is so lean on editors right now that they clear chopped off my little schpiel mid-sentence. WTF? no matter … here it is in its entirety.
I had been searching the NYC shelters for weeks without success. I wanted a small, young dog who could get along with my cat Aretha. One day, I found an adorable little mutt on Petfinder.com. They said he was a Jack Russell/Pug mix. Whatever he was, I needed him in my life. I called the rescue group who had saved him, and they said they could have him transported up to NYC from his temporary foster home in North Carolina. I gave him a musical name too — Rufus, after the spectacular Chaka Khan band from the 70’s. He was skittish when we first met, but is now he is my bestie and comes with me almost everywhere (no dogs allowed at work). People on the street always think he’s a puppy. He is estimated to be two years old, but we can’t know for sure. Whatever the case, he is my Sweet Thing.
Three of my Dad’s best buddies stopped over yesterday to see him. They were friends since they were 9 or 10 years old. My Dad lived in Washington Heights, but spent weekends and summers out in Jerz with friends of his parents. Sorta like his own Fresh Air Fund. The family had 4 kids … my Dad was like a surrogate son and big brother. They became his family … and consequently we grew up celebrating holidays with them. They are our family now, even though no DNA links us.
Anyways, the guys who stopped over were his core group of buds for most of his life. Seeing them, I was reminded of each of their stories, their lives. I remembered the shenanigans and jokes, the sad stuff too. Even though they are all in their early to mid 60’s, I saw them as little boys when they were together. Razzing each other. Joking around. I could picture them as kids, goofin off. They told stories about a crazy French teacher at Bergen Catholic. Funny.
Men’s relationships are a mystery to me — the seeming lack of intimacy – but there is something to the unsaid. The quiet knowing. I was so touched to see them help carry my Dad over to the bed and take his shoes off and help him get comfortable. My Dad has always been an extremely proud and independent person so this was a particularly hard thing to watch. Jimmy joked, “I love you Andy, but I am not going to take your pants off. You’re on your own there.” They all laughed.
Last night my Mom told me the stories about each of their lives. Things I had vague ideas about but never really knew. How they grew up. When their Dads died … and life changed. How Vietnam and the draft affected them …. Who avoided it and how, who didn’t and how he remained safe over there. I have even more love for those guys after hearing what they all had been through. A different time, a very tough time to grow into adulthood. (This is a high school yearbook pic of my Dad>). And here they are 40 sum odd years later still buddies, still caring for eachother in the realest of ways.
I am really glad that my Dad is able to let the people who love him come see him and take care of him. Clearly it is not easy , but eventually he does relax and have a laugh or two. The tough guy veneer is slowly fading. The hospice nurse told him Thursday, “This macho thing isn’t working for you.” The pain is accelerating and they have him on more pain killers and a pain patch for his hip. He is extremely bony, but is still managing to eat little bits each day. I feel lucky to be here with him, hard as it is. It gives him comfort to have me around and I have said and done everything I wanted to. No regrets.
Everyone knows what Twitter is, though relatively few are actively engaged with it. Like everybody else, I signed up to give it a shot. And then more or less gave up on it in short order when I couldn’t totally get it to work . Or, rather, I didn’t really get it. Seemed to me, you’re labbing (sp?) out status updates, links and random thoughts into the ether alongside other “followers” who are doing the same. Why bother? It felt like parallel play.
Then one night I heard a helicopter hovering loudly over my West Village apartment building. Channeling Boyz in the Hood, I had visions of an assailant jumping from the fire escape into Apartment 43. In search of immediate information, I went to the Internet to Google it. If someone’s gonna ambush me in my bed with a Tech-9, well at least I can prepare myself. A Twitter search showed up at the top. A few people in my immediate environs were talking about what was occurring (some sort of official NYPD drill). Just by satisfying my desire for validating information, it put my mind at ease.
Over the next few weeks I started to look at the “Trending Topics” to see what the fuss was all about. I was interested to find that 6 or 7 of the top topics during primetime are related to network TV shows. Made me realize how people are using the tool. Yes, it is very sporadic and ADD, but it’s neat to be able to chat with people as you watch. All the research says people want community and interactivity when it comes to watching TV. Twitter gives them that.
Now, the effectiveness of the tool depends on how you set yourself up to participate. When I was just using the web-based tool I could not understand how all the features worked …
But once I used TweetDeck I was able to appreciate what I had at my fingertips. It reminded me of an the old newswire interfaces they had at CBS News and The Wall Street Journal when I worked there as a young lackey. Stories come across and the editors decided which ones to read and possibly use. That’s what you’re more or less doing with Twitter — getting a wire service from individuals. The beauty of it is, you get to choose all the feeds yourself. Oh, and it’s free!
In the past two days, I have been Twittering up a storm. My goal is to showcase interesting content and ideas as well with as bit of personal trivia sprinkled in. Sorta like colsblog, but mini and able to reach new crowds who are thinking and talking about similar things at the same time. I read this morning that they are redoing the homepage to make Twitter more accessible and useful to general users. That’s a great idea. I am a fairly sophisticated user so if I am having troubs, the UI def. needs more work!
As for how to monetize Twitter … that is not at the front of my brain at the mo. There are many possibilities, and most of them shall contribute to the continued deterioration of the newspaper and magazine businesses. But I won’t get into that now. Rather, I will take the blonde girl fallback:
“I don’t want to make money, i just want to be wonderful.” – Marilyn Monroe
Tweet that, dear readers!
in keeping with one of my nicknames from 7th grade*, i have a strong impulse to go rampaging thru facebook and twitter replying to all the effluvia with my true thoughts. it would not be kind, but it could be fun. or at least cathartic. which reminds me, are you acquainted with lamebook? so in love with it.
* “Mean Colleen.” The other nickname was “Queen Colleen.”