Well, here we go again. As a bit of insurance against the computer locking up on me while I'm writing this post, I'm composing it not on Blogger but on Writely, which automatically saves the document once every minute or so, so even if I do lock up, I'll be able to get back the post minus whatever I'd written in the last minute once I've completed the cold boot. Not that my problem was Blogger-related, by the way. Blogger was an innocent bystander in last week's meltdown.
(Writely, by the way, rules. I'm toying with the idea of not even having a word processor on my next computer and just using Writely -- but I know I'll chicken out. The next computer, though, will not have Microsoft Office anywhere near it. It'll be Open Office all the way!)
And to folks who were about to be linked in last week's post before disaster strike, I apologize. Even though you have no way of knowing who you were, there's still that Karma thing. Anyhow, here are this week's links. Click through, for these folks deserve it!
:: Folks were raving about the pork loin, but being my own toughest critic I thought it was a tad dry. For those interested, here's how it was done. (Go get this recipe, folks. The pork loin was amazing. And Scott, if that was a tad dry, I'd hate to see what you call 'juicy'! You'd need to have a half-inch deep pool of meat juice remaining after the last bite! And you know, food blogs aren't unheard of -- and as for the concern you voiced on Saturday about your cooking knowledge being cribbed from elsewhere, so what? As Sam Seaborn once said on The West Wing: "Good writers borrow from other good writers. Great writers steal from them outright.")
:: Have you ever noticed that no matter what age we are, we're always the perfect age? (I get Lynn's meaning, but I'm a tad neurotic, so I tend to think that no matter what age I am, I'm still five years away from no longer being completely full of hot gas.)
:: New points on crayons, unblemished pads, fragrant pencil blossoms -- these remind me of teachers I loved and those who loved me back.
:: Look: Fight Club was okay. It was just okay. But some people -- especially some of you freaky internet people -- worship this film. Worship it. Like, you think if you can quote enough lines, you'll actually get to join Brad Pitt's anarchy gang or something. Well, I'm here to tell you: you can't. Get over it. (I don't hate Fight Club, but I admit that I've never understood the fuss over it. It just wasn't my cup of tea. And I think I should get credit for personal growth in linking a post that openly disses my beloved Star Wars: it's the best f***ing movie ever, dammit! This is a really fun-looking blog, by the way -- he has a feature called "the weekly object of his affection", who this week happens to be my most recent ROWR! Designate.)
:: In short, I’m enjoying a bunch of books I had no intention of reading. (Isn't that the way of it! How often do I have three or four books going at once, none of which is on my "Read Soon" list.)
:: Unfortunately, more and more people are walking around with Ipods and handless cell phones strapped to their heads, missing opportunities to relate with fellow humans and looking like so many Borg.
:: Baseball is a game of yards in which all the important measurements are done with centimeters.
:: And then, finally, there will be peace -- the peace of a graveyard.
:: If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all these years of writing professionally, it’s that you need to go with the flow. I’d be a fool to ignore a story that was writing itself.
:: The thing is, Jim, I believe the great unraveling is not happening from the top down, but from the bottom up. I see a great unraveling taking place in the bottom right now. Most people just don't want to look down. They are too busy whistling in the dark. (Well, I can't end on a bummer note like that...)
:: For the rest of the story, where do I begin? In the gutter, of course.