The Reviews Are In: Thumbs Down

I had a good time on the Radio this morning. I got to touch some vinyl. I got to listen to everything from Grandpa Jones ("8 more miles to Louisville") to Pavement to Mexican electronica (which I did not even know was a genre, but liked very much). I heard Jenny Toomey's "Unionbusting," which Mick characterized as a breakup song "told in the language of collective bargaining." (If you google Jenny Toomey, my 20-second twitvid of Mick talking about her will probably pop up. Which is kind of a miracle.)

We played "Blank Generation" and told Richard Hell stories (I only had one and it was pretty short). I think he emceed the "5 under 35" National Book Award celebration Monday night -- but the pics haven't turned up online yet. Even with 437 channels, nobody covers the National Book Awards festivities, and for people who are so into words, they sure do suck at Twitter. (Elitists will argue that verbal purists steer clear of Twitter -- to which I say "bullshit." A 140 character limit is a ruthless editor.) Mick and I both wore our pajamas (and I know the origin of that word is hindi, only because Richard Hell says it is). While we were on-air, between us, we had an iPhone, a BlackBerry, a netbook, and two Macs going through the entire show -- yet we both kinda lamented the fact that our plugged-in generation has resulted in a growing lack of appreciation for the truly arcane. There was a time when knowing something about Richard Hell or Jenny Toomey woulda meant something...but with Google, suddenly everybody's a genius, a Renaissance man.

Because we all have equal access to the democracy of blogs, facebook, twitter, etc. we sometimes lose track of each other in real life. For example, I realized today that what I know of Mick's Burning Man trip in an Airstream this summer, I know almost entirely from Mick's blog  www.minglefreely.com -- which is marvelous, but there was a day when we all woulda sat down over some cold beverages in somebody's yard and heard all about it. (Or tequila -- which, it turns out, we both have a new fascination with -- and again, I only know about his new fascination with it, cause I read it on his blog. The only way he would know about mine would be if he read this blog.) I didn't even get around to mentioning this all today in real life...but I'll send out a tweet later, and maybe everybody can facebook it. Then hopefully we can all share a glass of Mick's famous Vampire Santa homemade eggnog -- the exclusive swag I got for being on the show during holiday season -- in person. A friend texted in around 8 and said "my only regret is that this is happening too early for me to have a drink while I'm listening." I immediately texted back a pic of this eggnog I was sipping -- with sprinkles of real-hand grated nutmeg (so technology does have its advantages -- mainly to make him green with envy).

We both complained about how the time change doesn't seem to be giving us an extra hour of morning daylight since it was STILL dark when the show started at 7 am which is just ridiculous. (I think it should be daylight savings time all year. We're not an agrarian society anymore. We don't get up and go to bed with the chickens. We need the extra hour AFTER work. AND now that kids don't have to get home early to get the crops in anymore: send em to school 9 to 5. Why do parents have to make themselves crazy figuring out latchkey childcare issues?)

And for better or for worse, I knew I was having a bad day on the radio mostly because my instantaneous reviews at the Montessori were terrible -- just terrible -- this morning. I believe the exact words from my 11-year-old niece were: "not funny at ALL. She was just TALKING." And I know that, cause her Mom texted them to me from the carpool lane. 

Next time, I'll need better material. 

Dick and Julie

"I think the dozen people who click onto your website while they take their coffee breaks will manage to carry on if they don't get to read about your sauteing thorny vegetables in butter for one more day."
--Julie and Julia

One of the things I got for my birthday was the book, Julie and Julia, which I just started. And I'm far enough in to have read the part where she confesses to not knowing who Richard Hell is.

I know who Richard Hell is. I've even talked to him on the phone, during which I took cheesy delight in addressing him as Mr. Hell. (I knew his real name of course -- he's FROM here -- And it isn't Richard. And it isn't Hell.) I thought it was pretty funny, and I'm pretty sure he thought I was a dork, but the surprising thing to me was, either way, he was a good sport about it.

And either way, the book has made me think that there are probably A. people who know who Richard Hell is, B. people who don't, and then subsets of people who would admit to that, and then people who would not.

I figure I'm admitting to reading Julie and Julia, which is far more embarrassing than any of the above. But I wanted it, cause I love food and I love writing about food, and it's entertaining, even if it isn't well written. By and large, it reinforces the fact that there are often BIG differences between bloggers and writers -- some people are both (Dana Jennings is one of my favorites off the top of my head), but a lot of times they're the exceptions who prove the rule. This girl Julie, who wrote the book, doesn't pretend to be a writer -- she's actually an Actress -- employed as a Secretary.

(At my first job, I was a writer, employed as a "marketing assistant," which is the euphemism my Engineer Boss was kind enough to call me, because he felt bad about calling anyone with a master's degree his secretary. It was the 80s. I think he felt extra bad because his daughters both had liberal arts degrees like mine and I'm sure he was hoping someone would take pity on them someday and give THEM a job. All I know is, he worked harder than any other boss I've ever had. He was the BEST boss I have ever had. He is the Boss by whom I went on to measure every other Boss. And I was very, very glad to make his coffee. My time in carpetland with him was time well spent. At my next job, I had a real, old-school secretary, who knew actual shorthand and actually preferred to be called a Secretary and not an Assistant. I put in four years at that stop in carpetland and it was much, much harder. But I also made a lot more money.)

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I was just thinking, on my last birthday, I didn't even know HOW to blog (I did sorta know how to MICRO-blog, which is what I was still calling Twitter at the time, and that's because I was doing it wrong).

I still think Writers and Bloggers have very different jobs, and I'm still sorting out the two. And by "writer" I don't mean "novelist" -- which is the kinda thing any Writer will be asked about sooner or later if they go into writing as a profession. (No, I don't write Fiction. At least not on purpose. I don't think it's any more or less legitimate, or interesting, or serious than non-fiction -- just different.)

I'm also not a Journalist -- they have schools for that, and I didn't go to one -- I'm just a writer who sometimes writes about the news.

I love to cook -- but it doesn't make me a chef. They have schools for that too. Again, I didn't go to one. Chef Baby Brother did. That's why we call him Chef Baby Brother.

The blogging thing? Eh. I'm still figuring it out as I go.