For Sale: Web Guru, 28, slightly soiled. Ex-Production Editor of TimeOut.com – responsible for various community, editorial, design and coding matters. Now seeks stimulating role with online publisher / content site or in the development of new exciting web enterprises. Will code for food.
Grab yourself a copy of the Guardian today for an interesting piece on the whole Kaycee situation complete with insightful – nay, brilliant – comments from my good self. [guardian.co.uk]
So I’m finally putting my money where my mouth is, and I’m about 24 hours away from having a workable structure for a Barbelith Webzine. Which leaves me in the enviable position of just needing some damn content. I’m therefore putting out a Call for Papers.
The difference between the internet and real life: In real life the more you talk about your problems, the less people want to hear about them.
“It seems strange to talk about it now — to take something so private and place it in such a public place — particularly since keeping it secret was so important when I was younger.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Personal writing – écriture verité – is very much in the air at the moment. So I’m issuing a challenge. A couple of years ago there was this site called Ember.org. It contained ‘tales of first love’. I don’t think you could find a more difficult subject to write about. However, I put together a piece and sent it in. Reading it now, it seems almost immpossibly badly written, but my heart is there (displayed for all to see online) and I suppose that’s what counts.
My challenge is this. All of you who maintain personal sites – who write about your lives – put your money where your mouth is. Write your story of first love as honestly and openly as you possibly can. And to ‘celebrate’ this challenge, I’m putting my piece up permanently on plasticbag.org in a new ‘personal’ section of the site.
Evhead is back online finally, along with the rest of the team. It’s very satisfying to have Metafilter back with us as well. [The Kaycee thread remains.]
I’m actually slightly horrified by the last link I’ve posted, so don’t go there. Whatever you do. I’m English for god’s sake. Proper old-fashioned, doesn’t-respond-well-to-compliments, get’s-all-sheepish, self-effacing, English. Turns a bit purple, assumes the other person is lying and then gets an itchy back and sweat symptoms. Like someone had just revealed his deep childhood incestuous desires or something. Squirm.
Least favourite question of the moment: So what are you doing at the moment? Second least favouite question of the moment: So, you having a good time recently? Third least favourite question of the moment: Do you want fries with that?
News of the day is that I have discovered what Grant Morrison looked like with hair, and he was really quite hot. Extraordinary sudden collisions of hero and fit bloke in head are causing me dubious sideways-on insights into this ridiculous world we live in.
