digital delinquency

Over the last few weeks (and arguably the last few months), the regularity of my blogging has been rather suspect. And while I’ve felt rather vaguely guilty about that from a purely personal perspective (the initial motivation behind the site being to create a regular writing exercise for myself), I’ve in recent days been frequently reminded that the site (oddly) does draw a fairly large reading audience, many of whom have been more passionately displeased by my increasing digital delinquency.

There is something remarkably addictive, it seems, about voyeuristically impinging on the lives of others, and the withdrawal from such is an ugly, ugly thing.

So, having been duly (and repeatedly) chastised, I have resolved to once again return to habitual blogging, to do this damned thing every day, to make blogging as second nature as brushing my teeth. And, while on that topic, to start flossing regularly.

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January 18, 2003

still bubbling

The internet is a strange, strange place, one where knowing what the hell you’re talking about takes a distant back seat to Google thinking you know what the hell you’re talking about.

Case in point: “Bubble Boy,” VW’s new commercial for the upcoming Beetle Convertible. Since I praised it in a post here about a week back, over a thousand unique visitors have found their way to this site searching for information about the spot. Further, quite a few have emailed in for additional information – What other commercials has the director shot? What film stock was used for the vintage look – to which I’m forced to reply: I have absolutely no idea. None. I’m in no way connected to the shooting of the commercial or to Volkswagen (though my little brother does, in fact, own a Passat). The entire extent of my expertise on the matter is encapsulated in the four previously posted smarmy paragraphs.

Still, such Google-appointed expertise isn’t entirely without benefit. Among the emails I received was one from Billy Briggs, the actor who played the lead in the commercial, who wrote in to thank me for my kind words (and I must say, he took my “poor-man’s Jake Gyllenhaal” ribbing exceedingly graciously.) Doing what any movie producer would, I asked him for a headshot – I’d absolutely love to stick him into one of Cyan’s next films.

Weblog-based casting. Another technology breakthrough brought to you by self-aggrandizement.com.

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December 5, 2002

search string update

Ah, the power of Google. In the good old days (say, last week), the only bizarre search phrases driving more than thirty visitors a day to this site were ‘urinal etiquette’ and ‘fat naked guys.’ This week, thanks to my lesbian swing band rehearsal post, I’ve now also become a veritable Grand Central for searchers seeking ‘lesbian self photography.’ And I’ve got to assume those visitors are leaving this site more than a bit disappointed.

While I don’t have any immediate plans to remedy that, I have been thinking about the next best thing: namely, ‘playgirl guys’ – which today brought 16, soon to be disappointed, visitors. Yes, while I don’t know any lesbians willing to take pictures of themselves naked (actually, now that I think about it, I probably do, but that’s a whole separate post), I certainly do own a digital camera, am pretty sure I look my best when naked, and am awfully tempted to just bare it all and give those visitors what they want.

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October 21, 2002

a stealthful return

Frankly, I miss it. After six months hiatus from this site, spending all of my time just on work blogging (cyanpictures.com), I seemingly can’t resist the vastly more therapeutic personal blogging urge.

Still, as I certainly don’t have the surprisingly large chunks of free time blogging requires, I can’t promise that I’ll be updating this site as regularly as I have on prior blogging stints. And, to that end, I’m keeping this relaunch rather quiet – if I really do get back into the blogging rythm, I’m sure my old readers will gradually rediscover the site. If not, I’ll simply put the hiatus front page back up and pretend none of this ever happened.

Place your bets, and away we go.

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October 12, 2002

mail bag

Today, allow me to address those readers who have ‘helpfully’ emailed recently to point out the irregularity (in both timing and quality) of my postings over the past few weeks:

Sod off, you fucking bastards! You can blow it out you ass! I can’t even begin to tell you how much time I’ve been spending on launching my company, I somehow managed to horribly over-commit myself with a slew of upcoming trumpet gigs, there’s a no-holds-barred tournament coming up next month where I’ll be quite publicly getting my ass kicked if I don’t push my training into high gear, and that doesn’t even begin to factor in the time requirements of a nascent relationship and my long-standing raging alcoholism. That’s right. I’m busy. I have a fucking LIFE. I don’t have time to just SIT AROUND, dancing like a MONKEY for your FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT! WHY CAN’T YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL! WHY DON’T YOU ALL JUST WITHER AND DIE!!! AAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!

I mean, um… I really appreciate the feedback and will be working hard to live up to prior expectations. Gosh, you guys are swell!

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June 3, 2002

goodbye, bdb

For those of you who missed it, I spent the last two weeks as a contestant in BlindDateBlog. Now, finding myself in an increasingly serious real-life relationship, I’ve decided to bow out of the game. My official resignation:

I hate to do it. I’m still having fun. And I suspect I could have made it through this weekend’s double elimination, sticking around and causing trouble for at least one more week.

Still, I must admit that the joys of smarmy digital egotism pale in comparison to those of budding real-life romance. And after spending all of yesterday afternoon and evening with an increasingly-significant other, I’m afraid I have no choice but to go the Helen Jane route and resign myself from this game. The sting of Cupid’s arrow, the sonorous lilt of happy feminine laughter, and a damned good pair of legs all conspire against my participation.

Before I go, allow me to whole-heartedly extend my thanks to Ernie, my fellow contestants, and the peanuts and other rubbernecking onlookers – I certainly had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into when I signed up for BDB, and I can say in retrospect that the past two weeks have been a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience. I’ll be watching intently from the sidelines, heckling and raking up ill will in a way that I couldn’t possibly have while still a contestant hell bent on kissing enough ass to stay in the game.

In the meantime, wish me luck. And if any of you, contestants, peanuts or audience members, ever end up in New York City, drop me a line. The first round of drinks is on me.

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May 16, 2002

look out playgirl

Yes, due to this posting, in which I bemoan the number of old, fat naked guys lounging around the locker room of the Yale Club where I work out, I’m now the fourth entry in a Google search for ‘naked guys’.

And, for those concerned, I’m also still the second most authority on ‘urinal etiquette’.

Between the two, I can’t even begin to express my feelings of gratification.

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April 12, 2002