With social networking firmly dominated, Facebook is expanding to other social mediums, in this case "news". While it seems an innocent enough tweak, the addition of "liking" a post or link is probably the beginning of a direct assault on Digg. Facebook is racing toward ubiquity.
In what is now an officially recurring dream (three is enough, yes?), I'm working for the Food Network in the selection of a new television chef. Anxiety hits though as everything tastes, um, "good". Nothing is "amazing". The stress isn't from making the selection though. It's from not having the vocabulary to express what I'm tasting and feelings of inadequacy regarding my rather vulgar palate.
There are meals in my repertoire. Vito taught me to make an amazing marinara. Chili is a lay-up. And my baking is very popular. There is a Joy of Cooking sitting/collecting dust in the kitchen and a complete service for twelve, if ever the need may arise.
Surrounded by friends that are amazing cooks and avid watchers of Food Network programming has struck a chord of insecurity. It makes more sense for them to host and cook. The egalitarian in me though was to serve back with more than just a bottle of good wine. The sleeper in me just doesn't want to be woken up by this dream again.
Once upon a time this site had a blog roll, listing the other "pioneers" of the Internet whose sites had caught my attention. Over time, the list went away for ease of maintenance and for the honest fact that I don't really read many blogs on a day-to-day or even week-to-week basis.
The blog roll existed though as a file that was never deleted though and, on a whim, was tonight revisited for the first time in two years. The biggest revelation was that over 80% of the sites were dead, with half not having been updated for months or years and the remainder being simply deleted, their URL's leading to nonexistent pages.
In part, this mass blogicide was the result of Facebook and other more insular venues, which made it easy to post a link with a quick comment and share it with friends. Other causes of death may include burnout and frustration.
For the survivors though, for those bucking the trend and not going toward the more insular Tumblr or Facebook route, for the folks out there self-publishing different voices that might never be picked up by a more homogenized, corporatized blogosphere, for these people today, I bring back the blog roll. (It's at the bottom of the right column.)
(Sigh. This is an obviously truncated post, but there's a bit of a story here. Whither the bloggers?)
Winter doldrums had me tired of looking at the same things in the same places, so it was time to switch some things and freshen things up in the apartment, yet not break the bank. Following is the breakdown.
Heavy Duty Steel Shelving
Home Depot - $263.91 (for three)
In combination they take up what was an underused desk space (moved to the bedroom) Books and magazines moved from multiple locations to one. Lights at the top of the shelves and smaller lamps on shelves prevent it from becoming a dark monolith. (Delivery was arranged with a man in a van in the store parking lot, less than half of the in-store service and far more timely.)
Angry wife chair (vintage)
The Furniture Market (Astoria) - $90
Facing directly to the front door, this leather chair was made by an H. Frank company on Park Avenue South, probably in the mid-1960's. My vision is of an angry wife sitting in it at five in the morning, greeting a drunken husband with an icy stare.
Danish credenza (vintage)
The Furniture Market - $250
While definitely Danish (with the right markings) the wood is a faux-teak that I can't place. It hides away all components and all porn. There are still some wire management issues, but for the price it's a bargain.
8:15: Previously, on Facebook:
8:23: Yes, ruin a pretty song with Kanye. GRAMMY FUNFACT: Kanye is Mamluk for "music killer".
8:26: Is the dictator sing-along-song. Chris Martis is pretty though, so pass.
8:29: Carrie Underwood could use an underwire. She IS the Beyonce of country music; this is not a compliment or a slam.
8:34: Kirsten Dunst, in preparation for an upcoming role, is portraying a country-western Grammy winner, and unlike most modern iterations by Dunst this one is likeable enough.
8:36: Typepad should have a "liveblog" mode.
8:37: Speaking of marketing assholes, this dreadful attempt to drag people to the CBS website to celebrate their "Grammy moment" could be more convoluted but it would probably take another six-figure marketing exec to put his hand int it as well. And PowerPoint presentations. With star wipes.
8:42: Sybil the cat had a hairball. Who's the blonde with Al Greene?
8:43: Dictator-singalong-song is the song of the year. Chris martin is still pretty. The blond looks like Bryce Edwards.
8:46: What is Kid Rock saying "amen" about? What are the flags? New song. Another one. I know nothing of Kid Rock except the Pam Anderson bits. Also? His real name is Robert Ritchie. Oh, wait, he is rock and roll Spaghetti Monster.
8:54: While I don't know which one is Taylor Swift and which one is Miley Cyrus (because I am an old and a "don't care"), I do know that when you are fifteen and someone tells you they love you that you are going to go tell all your friends and then make fun of that person for at least the rest of the semester. These girls do seem sweet enough to auction off their virginity on eBay.
8:56: "Pop Collaboration for Vocal" is shorthand for who can make the biggest sucking sound from sucking apparently. But, hm, Robert fucking Plant.
8:59: Family Guy is a repeat?! I need an exit strategy!
9:05: That was your moment of live blog silence for Miss Jennifer Hudson. That and Typepad went crazy on me.
9:06: So this CBS thing? Let's see if I can understand it. "Fans" made their own version of Katy Perry's controversial-because-its-lezfaux" song. You're supposed to vote for those videos online. And Perry will be playing live at the Grammy's, but this is unrelated to the contest. And the winner of the contest will be announced on tomorrow morning's Early Show, although Perry won't be on said show. So if you are a fan of fans of this song you should go online and watch the Early Show, since nobody else in the world will be, except for the stupid fucking marketing MBA who dreamed this bullshit up.
9:10: Stevie Wonder is singing into a vocorder while some children dance on the stage. Oh, that Stewie is being a rapscallion! That was not a typo, I'm on Family Guy during this tragedy. I don't care how much Stevie is happy about the Obama presidency, this is a match made in a very low circle of hell.
9:23: If I don't see real girls kissing and liking it, I'm out. This Perry girl can't sing for shit, but this Carmen Miranda as a whore thing works for me.
9:25: She can't sing or dance. What the fuck?
9:27: Kanye West must be giving some awesome cock up to David Geffen or someone, because that is a voice only a crypt-keeper could love. Meanwhile I'm feeling the Tito Jackson hair and jacket and face fat. And Estelle is hot, despite the lack of stage presence.
9:29: I've genuinely had enough and my DVR just decided that American Dad must be on the screen. This retro "blogging like it's 2006" experiment is over. And out.
(For a REAL live-blog of the Grammy's go over and read Maura Johnston's take at Idolator.
Seen on the street (outside of Credit Suisse, natch) is your latest installment of Brides magazine phone-booth advertising. The purpose of the ad is to communicate that Brides magazine was founded during the Great Depression, so this New Depression is not a reason to, um, cancel your subscription*, or, um, cancel your wedding, or, um, stop loving? In contrast to multitudinous layoffs at Conde Nast, it is mysterious thing. In final assessment, perhaps the message is "Sure the economy is bad, but we'll still be around and in fact spend money on conundrumic advertising and to prove that print isn't dead we'll run our ads on phone booth kiosks because phone booths aren't dead either, not at all."
*On a ponderous note: Do ladies actually subscribe to Brides? Do they keep it under the bed like lady-porn? Surely you can't bring a guy home and have that guy-scaring periodical on the coffee table.