Scott, Phil and I had a meeting in St. Louis today and, on the way back, we passed a semi loaded with shiny new fireplugs. As we passed I snapped a picture. In a very accusatory tone, Scott said, “Mays is just looking for something to blog. That’s why I quit. I got tired of trying to come up with something to write about every day.”
Actually, I took the picture because the fireplugs looked very phalic and naughty in an industrial sort of way. But I understand the “blog pressure” Scott and many other bloggers feel. Fortunately, I don’t share Scott’s need to make every post interesting and worth reading. I’ll post on anything. But if I were taking the photo just so I could blog it. What the hell would I say? “Look at the dirty fireplugs?” No, Scott… we don’t live to blog. We blog to live.
I have another friend that battles his blog demons. Andy writes very long, very thoughtful posts. In truth, they’re more like essays that blog posts. He says he envies my knack for posting short, trivial items that don’t gobble up my day. (I added “trivial”) What Andy must understand that is that it’s the gestalt of smays.com that gives greater meaning to the humble parts.
I said in an earlier post that I was only going to use photos that I took myself for the masthead. But when I saw David Sprague’s breath-taking sunrise shots from the Learfield parking lot, I decided to amend my rule to allow use of photos by anyone I know personally. I was so taken with David’s photo I didn’t bother to ask his permission to use it here… so enjoy it while you can.
Phineas is a nine-year-old parrott and has a life expectancy of about 60 years. All pets should live so long. Phineas is attempting to do a hand-stand despite not having hands. A real trooper. The woman in the background is probably not a bird person. [
No-sweat e-ticket check-in. Barely had time to take off my shoes before I was through security. Zero delay on the flight to Seattle. And now I’m sitting in the bar of the Edgewater Hotel, sucking down micro-brews (and free wi-fi). Christ, can life get any better?
