Laissez les bons temps rouler

I haven't been to New Orleans since 8th grade. The last time I was there, Deion Sanders was blazing down the field at the Sugar Bowl, I got my portrait done in pastels near the Cafe DuMonde, and my friend and I pretended to be college students at the bars my parents snuck us into on New Year's Eve, sipping Hurricanes and ogling the debauchery on Bourbon Street. It was the best weekend of my young life, and I've wanted to return ever since. I read everything I can about it, in Poppy Z Brite and the Valentin St Cyr books and the Skip Langdon ones and, yes, Anne Rice, and books on Storyville and every bodice-ripper historical novel set in the town I can lay my hands on. Hell, I even watched K-Ville; I couldn't help myself. That bayou gumbo of decay and delight is seductive and fascinating and just so damn sultry.

When I saw that my reviewee for today is a bear from the Big Easy who's in theatre (with an "re")? Forget it. I was hooked. Until I saw the template.

Bigezbear has a truly terrible template. Three columns of blah. Get rid of the comments, members, map, and "hot off the presses" stuff in the sidebar, or at the very least put them on ONE sidebar. Although, really, get rid of the comments in the sidebar. It's just weird. Oh, and the "Event Brite" doohickey at the bottom? That's not doing you any favors. Just add a page to your site about your events -- problem solved.

I don't know where to start with this blog. You just land on "home" and are expected to plunge right on in because there's no "About" page, and his Blogger profile is sparse to say the least. There are no archives, so I had to go hit "Older Posts" about nine-hundred and seven times to get any perspective or background. Holy fuck am I a dedicated reviewer. But, ok, screw it. I don't care what information could be recovered by my going back to the beginning -- I'm starting at 2008.

At first, I didn't know what the hell was going on or who everyone was, but the writing is full and round and seasoned and heart stopping and just good. There's vodou and Dr. John and theatre and dirty martinis and wry observations about post-Katrina New Orleans and pretty pictures. There's a lot of life in this blog, and it's fascinating. Bigezbear posts all the time, about all manner of things (mostly to do with New Orleans and his neighborhood and his productions), and his posts are short and long, serious and silly, revealing and closed up tight and shy.

Once I got past the off-putting and completely uninspiring template and dug in to his writing, I was hooked. His voice -- his humor and self-deprecating wit and charm and passion for his city -- has captured me.

I fucking love you, you big ol' bear you. Give us a hug, burly beast.







Now go away, I'm reading. I have to find the beginning of your blog.

It's Only a Diary

When I lived abroad back in college I kept a journal. It was the only time -- before blogging -- that I was able to consistently write about what was going on in my life. And that was because I didn't want to forget a second of it. I knew that years from now, I'd want to remember the tacchino sandwiches at Noe, the Tequila Sunrises at Kikuya, and the way the cobblestone streets bruised my feet for the first week. I wanted it all written down for me to come back to when I was older and wiser and rich and famous (because I was supposed to be rich and famous -- damn you, fate, you motherfucker).

The beauty of that journal is that it's for me. I don't have to share it with anyone, and if I do it'll be with people close to me, people who care about the woman I am now and the girl I was then. There may be snippets tucked in there among the loopy swirly ramblings on Italian men and $4 bottles of Chianti and seeing grown men peeing on street corners that would be fit for sharing. But for the most part it's a record for my eyes only.

Bella at Earth to Bella has a similar journal (without my overblown horniness and rampant alcoholism and melodramatic musings about life and my place in it), but she lets us all read it.

First, this is a sweet little design. I really love it. It's simple, clean, organized (yay, TABS!), easy on the eyes, and has a precious header. The navigation is easy, there's no clutter, it's lovely.

But the rest of it... well. I wanted to fucking love Bella. Really. The design won me over right away, but she's also a reader and a student and a traveler. She's cute, tech-savvy, and eager and she posts pretty pictures and wears cute shoes and she's been blogging for forever and she writes often. What's not to like?

I'll tell you.

Her posts are aggravatingly long, and though her English is exceptionally good, there are some stumbling blocks for me as an American reader. She posts about her weekend and what she did and then after that we went here and so-and-so said this. We don't know the people you're talking about, Bella, and for the most part you don't introduce us. Like I said, when I studied abroad I wrote like this. I logged my daily activities and mundane happenings and thoughts. And while that may be compelling for me, it's not really going to do squat for someone else. Why should we care? These things you're writing about aren't for us -- they're for you and maybe your close friends. You don't take the effort to tell us a story, to make it about us, too, to draw us in. You just tell us what happened and hope we give a shit.

Bella, it's a bit like you're sending really long, detailed emails to friends. And if I were your friend I'd probably appreciate them. But I'm not. I'm a stranger on the internet. And though your life is interesting and filled with fun places and friends and school and snazzy internships and good times, it all reads kind of flat and impersonal.

And you know why. You're not anonymous and you admit to using the blog primarily as a means of staying in touch. This can kill your blog. When you post things like this -- when you cover up how you really feel, what's really going on in your life, by posting trivialities -- you lose us. Entirely.

"Let’s be realistic, the world doesn’t really care about me, and I doubt anyone will ever care what I thought of this book or that movie in 2005." Indeed. Unless you make us. Unless you draw us in and make it compelling and communicate with us and bring us along for the ride instead of just compiling the details and the photographic evidence. There are a zillion bloggers out there trying to be heard. Your design goes a long way toward bringing people in, but how are you going to get them to stay? How are you going to get them to care? By cutting out the surface bullshit and writing. I don't just mean words on a screen, because you've got that puppy nailed. You need to write like you want us to pay attention, like you want us to hear you, like you want us to come back and see what else you have to say. And you do that by editing (A LOT! You don't need 3/4 of those words you sling up there.), by crafting a post, by creating a unique voice, and by letting us see who you are, what matters to you, what moves you.

Look to these international blogging sensations for inspiration. They tell us about their lives and their thoughts and their hopes and their failures and their successes in ways that make us hang on every word and want to come back for more.

A Free Man
Florida Girl in Sydney
My Blue Streak
Xbox4NappyRash

In the meantime, you get an "I fucking love you" for your template. After the craptastic templates we have to see, yours is outstanding.

I wish I could say the same for the rest of your blog. I like you and I see the potential you've got here for a great blog, and I'm probably going to follow you because you've got some interesting stuff going on. Really. But the way you're writing it now excludes us instead of including us. We don't get let it, and you don't give us anything to make us tear the door down.

Take this "meh" and let it inspire you to greater heights. You know there's a problem with the way you're blogging now. Fix it. I'll be watching.