little landmarks in the life of the blogger

(1) i've made $11 on istockphoto.com! only $89 more and i'll actually be able to cash out.
(2) i've evaluated 4,182 mp3s. only 75 more and i'll have rated my entire itunes library.
(3) i've exchanged 4+ emails about editing a client's novel. only 1+ more and i might have a deal.
(4) i've posted 192 blog entries. only 8 more and i'll have exhausted all of my ideas for the 17 point scale. okay that's probably not true, but at the moment it certainly feels that way. and since it's always best to be prepared, i've found you a replacement site; it's a blog about reading, writing, and annie dillard. in the most recent post, the blogger (beth) talks of church, polar bears (well, they're actually dillard's polar bears, not beth's), and the beautiful agony that is writing (or more particularly, the troubling realization that visits nearly every young writer, the sad epiphany that some greater, more renowned author has somehow stolen your paper mache idea and given it wings, the elegant, nuanced wings of a monarch butterfly or a hoatzin). just imagine the coolness of my parenthetical thought multiplied by some really big number (maybe a number like 70. isn't that the really huge, seemingly infinite number that Christ offered the apostles when they asked how many times they should forgive their brother? i may be recalling this wrong, but if not, does that mean that jews and romans were really bad at math? or should i stop forgiving him later this year?), and you'll have a rough sense of how great this blog is. but there is one problem. you'll have to pay spu a few thousand dollars before you can read it. yep, it's that good. officially, the money that you'd spend to read the blog is considered tuition for spu's mfa in creative writing, but we all know that that's just lawyer talk, cause i'm telling you, it's a darn good blog.


andrew david. "yes this is a rather plain wedding picture and yes i wore those sandals during the wedding and yes thats danny and alison at the bottom of the page and yes you can tell becky that ive finally read some wendell berry" saskatchewan, canada.

nearly an introduction

last week i promised a post about the brain of the other andrew. i didn't share this, but he was to be the test case for my online obituary idea (see yesterday's post). however, after a day's reflection, i've decided that even a bucket of laud isn't worth the sham of a fake obit. besides, i faintly recall that when dave eggers tried it in a heartbreaking work of staggering genius*, his thoughtfully humorous memoir was nearly overtaken by dull monotony and post-modern pseudophilosophy. so, in an effort to avoid anything that might make me a wealthy contributor to mcsweeney's (the brainchild of mr. eggers) or scare my friends, i think i'll introduce the other andrew in a more ordinary fashion:

i first met the other andrew during my freshman year at seattle pacific university (spu). although andrew shared a room with some sophomores in a remote area of my dorm floor, i can't recall a single conversation with him from that year**. therefore, this introduction will resume with events that occur sometime after the 1999-2000 academic year.


andrew david. "african dancing" puget island, wa.
andrew david. "the best modeling mug" shekinah, saskatchewan.

*that is, when he tried writing about writing a mock obituary. by the way, nick hornby has now transformed the heartbreaking work of staggering genius into a new line cinema screenplay

**there are several explanations for this seeming lack of discourse during early y2k: (1) perhaps there really was no lack, perhaps we actually had several notable conversations, but they were wiped from my mind by the events of the following years--as manyone will tell you, my memory's not that great; (2) while andrew was a fellow 5th hill-er, his room was in another galaxy of the floor--i can't even remember where--it certainly wasn't close enough to borrow sugar or to be lured in by dumb and dumber, counterstrike, or the brassy sounds of chicago; (3) andrew is tall, and i've recently discovered that i don't like tall people (i.e., individuals who are taller than me). last week as i edited a PTSD manuscript for daniel conybeare i looked up from a dangling modifier and realized that i really was looking up. "this isn't right," i thought. "i didn't realize you were taller than me," i said. and here's some more anecdotal evidence: if your name is nathan white, jonathan skeith, or john brawner, you'll notice that i haven't called you in quite some time. no disrespect, but you're just too tall.

an apology

These pictures make me think of Christmas.
So, I'd like to apologize for posting Christmas pictures in October.


Now I'd like to apologize for what comes next: yet another apology. while i'm sorry that these pictures really having nothing to do with my post (or vice-a-versa), what comes next is a bit more convoluted. consider it living art. that is, i'm posting something that hasn't yet been written. with any luck, i'll return to it in a few days/weeks/months once i'm done studying. or i'll just let it rest here putrifying. yummm...

studying for the gre. for grad school. i'm a bit of an anomolie. don't particularly love any books or genre. aside: and this even-keeledness seems to spill over into pretty much everything. i don't like dirty dishes, stinky toilets, or .... but i'm content to let them be. maybe that's laziness. maybe i don't get excited mucy, but i'm a sucker for writing that tries to capture sideways glances back at itself. confessional poets. so when i say i'm a sucker, i don't mean i spend hours and hours fawning over dave eggers' confessional style -- and he does this on two levels: that of the plot and that of the manuscript itself or dusty's madman;s asides. but i certainly appreciate them. imagine you're driving along on your motorbike. so, if i were the literary craftsmen that i ought to be, i would have determined a tacit way of doing this. you would have got the message without me saying a specific word. yet, i would be invisibly self conscious. ah, what could have been. but this is an apology. and no matter what english teachers tell you, apologies need to be spoken, let into the light. so here's my list of things that i, the 17 opint scale ... apology.

1,while i'm addicted enough to endeavor to write daily, it just won't happen. and what i will write will be first draft quality. after all, its a blog, not a manuscript for ... and it will probably contain a lot of this. self-indulgent excuses. i'll try and make this an all encompassing apology however. fruthermore, i apparently have a tough time finishing serial style blogs. oh well.

2a i apologize if i ask you to read my blog and put you in the uncomfortable position of not saying 'you suck'
2b i apologize to people like stvs who are cursed with the inability to find diamonds in the literay rough (that is, find treasure in the crap that your friends write). i actually think that this is a lot of people. we don't sit around and pass stories around the campfire anymore, and i think we've lost the ability to tell stories and listen to stories. but actually, i'll recind that apology, because i doubt you would bother to wade through this far if this is you. and despite the fact that this is a blog (and therefore lacks the necessity of logic) and perhaps a bit wordy at times (bear with me, im studying forthe gre) i think i might say somethings particualry well at times. so hah.

3. most importantly, i apologize that these posts are neither diary entries of exciting events in my life nor carefully constructed papers on this or that. instead, they are first draft thoughts only...'

4 i apologize if i repeat myself.