..[Los Angeles without a car, work permit or superpowers]

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Sixteen Degrees (°C) of Separation

In the absence of beach weather, I'm surfing the 'Next Blog' button.

Video-game-playing guys, girls who wear vintage without looking like an unmade bed, Christian mothers, cowboys, and anyone double my age -- I'm reading, because you're not at all like me. Our only common ground is small, varied, and sometimes tenuous. Perhaps you:

- hold firm opinions about Valentine's Day.
- live in LA.
- live in Wisconsin (I hear it's the American answer to Somerset).
- are involved in academia, or grad-school, or are frequently described as 'pallid'.
- make a finely-tuned argument for atheism (I'm a weaselly agnostic, myself).
- make short, sincere lists of things for which you're Thanking The Lord today.*
- make long lists of everything that's gone wrong today.
- write haiku about TV shows, or poems entitled 'Go Fuck Yourself'.*
- know that Michaelmas, Hilary and Trinity are not a set of Victorian triplets.
- draw portraits of celebrities that bring to mind the description 'teeth like baseballs... eyes like jellied fire'. (Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas).*
- have occasional difficulty explaining yourselves to cashiers.
- walk a high wire through difficult times without ever grasping self pity or happyclappiness.*

(*Well, I don't do these, but I admire them. And, especially, I acknowledge that 'being obliged to take the bus in LA' doesn't count as 'difficult times', even when old men do shout at you to GO BACK TO CHINA.**)

(** I'm not from China, so this is just confusing.)

Criteria used to exclude blogs:

- overusing the words Blessing, Mommy, Trendy, Hipster, Hubby, Steampunk or Faggot (unless the latter is referring to a bundle of twigs or an unappetising British meatball).
- having an icon saying 'The Cutest Little Blog On The Block'.
- removing the 'Next Blog' button, forcing me to backtrack and waste precious time.
- any pouting to the webcam.
- too many photos of food (makes me hungry) or shoes (makes me covetous) or family (makes me feel like I've got horribly drunk and then woken up, inexplicably, on the sofa in your living room, possibly having puked on your Sears rug, and am now staring at your graduation/wedding/school photos in the hope that something will give me a clue as to my location*). 

(*Please don't worry; I've only ever done this in my own living room.)

On the last note: if your blog is not intended for the eyes of strangers -- perhaps you forgot to set it as private -- and you feel odd that I've linked to you, please tell me to remove it, or adjust your settings. I didn't search for any of these blogs, and was referred to them by nothing more than the wisdom of the Next Blog button.

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