My skeertuig is vol palings*

The other day a friend and I went to see "Julie & Julia," a sweet little film about a culinary giant and some girl who turned her whiny little blog into a book (and then into a movie). During the film, my friend turns to me and says, "Someday I'll say I knew you when you had a blog." I scoffed, "It doesn't happen like that anymore." And it surely won't happen to me and my sorely neglected little exercise in self-indulgence. But the thing is, as Madame pointed out recently, everyone and their mother and sometimes their cat has a blog now. The field is saturated and glutted and just overrun with folks wanting to be heard above the din.

But what's worse than all those mind-numbing and misspelled and mordant (although I kind of like that bit) forays into blogging, those wastes of space, those narcissistic little microcosms, are the ones who could be so much better but just aren't. Stu strikes me as one such.

He has the ugliest template ever. I wanted to click away immediately. The ads are sucking my will to live. It looks like a spam nest run over by a train wreck with gobbets of banality strewn across the pavement of the blogosphere. I mean, look: He made me use the word "blogosphere." Jesus lord, there are no dates on the posts! Where am I? Also, the whole shebang sometimes gets all wonky with the archives and crap moving under the post.

Just scrap it. It's total crap. It is a hinderance to your writing. It couches your blog in the most off-putting way. Find something simple, roll up your archives, get organized, and for shit's sake put a date on your posts. Stu, you don't need a tab for "blogging." The whole blog should kind of be for that, right? And that header image? That's the header image of a total douchebag.

Stu, your title is so annoying I want to rips its wriggling little guts out. I mean, fuck me sideways, there are ellipses in the title. In the title! I hate it on principle. And merit. And anything else I can hate it on.

But go check out his "About" page, which is really just his Blogger profile (dude -- don't do that). He sounds interesting, right? Ninjas, the word "hogwash," Aston Martins? Well, you never would have guessed from looking at his shit storm of a blog.

Guess what? A "belter" is apparently a hot chick. Just FYI. Learn something new every day. I thought it had to do with people who can really belt out a song, like maybe Babs. But no. Hot chicks. How original. Although I'm pleased to report that the brunettes seem to outstrip (that might have been a poor choice of words -- or a perfect one) the blondes.

Something else I learned? South Africans say "y'all." I can't quite wrap my head around that.

Look, the guy's entertaining enough and he's kind of funny, but do I really need to read another site where a guy drools over hot girls, hot cars, and moderately funny things posted elsewhere on the web? No. No, I don't. And neither does the rest of the world. It's not until about three months into the blog that we get an actual post with more than a paragraph or two from Stu without a picture of a hot car or a bikinied babe or something pilfered from somewhere else. And, you know, aside from some sloppiness and ellipses overkill, it's actually amusing.

Stu, Stu, Stu... cut the crap. You're an amusing guy and your voice is engaging, but you lose me with all the extra nonsense you pepper into your blog. It's useless, overdone, and it completely undermines your genuinely likable writing. You can do better. Strip it down, tune it up, and get real. I stopped reading after about four months because I had to wade through all the flotsam and jetsam of Internet wreckage to get to YOU. And you're lucky I got that far.

You get a flaming finger because you are failing to live up to your potential and your template sucks hind tit. Clean it up, start actually writing, and I might reconsider. You've got something -- you're just hiding it. Stop.






*My hovercraft is full of eels. (Afrikaans)

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

So, um, hi? Miss me? Yeah, look, sorry about that. I kind of took an unintentional hiatus there. It's just, damn, there's this whole summer winding down thing and my rampant ennui and there was, like, stuff to do where I had to meet deadlines. And then I got this rager of a headache that totally incapacitated me and all. But, you know, sorry. Not your fault, guys. It's all me. Me and my excuses.

But I'm getting back into it, you know? Psyching myself up, getting pumped, giving myself a stern talking to about responsibilities and commitments and follow through and keeping my eye on the ball and strike first, strike hard, no mercy SIR!

And look! It's working. 'Cause here's my review.

Batspit. Bat spit? Bat's pit? Bats pit? I haven't a clue. I don't know what it means. I don't know why. Or how. The about page is short and sweet and doesn't tell me, so I'm left to my own devices, which means I think it's bat spit. But do bats even spit? If they do, is it venomous? Or is it rich in nutrients like their shit? Thoughts to think, stuff to ponder.

Whatever the hell it means, her site has a very minimalist design, and it's image-friendly, which is good because she posts a lot of her own photos. And they're pretty, with an interesting perspective.

The writing is much the same. Lea writes these poetic and nuanced and powerful posts about small things and big things. There are posts I can relate to, and her writing is spare and lovely. She's an anthropology student, which doesn't surprise me as her attention to detail is reverential and her interest in others palpable. Lea is a word nerd, and and I have to love anyone who uses the word "skirr." I mean, honestly. Say it. Skirr. You want to roll the R, don't you? Lord knows I do.

I admit, I haven't read the whole thing yet. Yet, mind you. I fully intend to and I'm adding her to my reader. I started at the beginning and have worked my way up toward last November. I'm disappointed that she hasn't posted since August 13, but then who am I to talk, Miss Ennui Notbloggington herself? But Lea has captured the blogging crisis for academia, and for us. And she's so very, oh, what do I want to say... earthy and organic. There's nature and life and joy and detail, such pristine detail in her writing. It's like she's cupped the world in her hands and is examining it piece by piece as it comes along, taking its picture and putting it up close, close, close to her eye so she can see it and write about it and savor it just so.

So, what can I suggest for Lea? Just keep writing. I'll keep reading.