In conversation the other day Alec told me his idea for starting his own website. It would be called Your Blog Is Shite, and he would write rants about how completely pathetic the blogging community is, with featured links to illustrate his points. He assured me he’d get to mine as soon as he could.
Continuing in this romantic and sensitive tradition, we’re going cottaging (dumb sleazy joke intended) for our first anniversary. Our cosy getaway of love is called The Hole.
Scattered thoughts while trying and failing to understand international trade law, and listening to Nick Cave (No More Shall We Part):
Oh dear. This is one of those days where boredom breeds banality.
Here is the problem: I have settled the problem of web-hosting for at least the next year, and have significantly more space in my postgraduate computer account in which to frolic. Unfortunately, as I type this I have the distinct feeling of standing on a stage in an empty auditorium because I haven’t managed to post anything on my standby blog at Blogspot directing traffic here. Also, I don’t seem to be able to find myself here in Google searches, which I’ll try to remedy by discreetly including some keywords (Michelle Michelle Michelle ineffable ineffable ineffable blog blog blog) in this post.
But hopefully, the problem will get solved at some point, and I suppose those of you who do manage to find me are the ones who really, really want to (yup, all three of you). So this is where I will continue to brew my word stews of boring day descriptions, struggling music writing, occasional links, and inscrutable Michelleness. Keep coming here if it floats your boat and thanks for bearing with me this far.
[Oh yes: it would be nice if you could let me know you’ve found me again. I confess I do sometimes like keeping track of all you. :) ]
Oh, goodness. In the midst of trying to make passionate love to my textbooks, I almost forgot: university IT-powers-that-be insist on me getting a new computer account, which will affect the URL of this site. If this site suddenly disappears, please keep in touch with me at theineffable.blogspot.com, where I’ll be posting until I sort out the new webspace.
I suppose this would all be easier if I went and did the domain name thingy like all the grown-up bloggers do.
According to Google I am the number three resource on the Internet for indieness. Right on. I is well cool.
20 Percent Of Area Man’s Income Spent Ironically (The Onion)
Also see All Chewbacca’s Dialogue In The Comic Book Version Of The Empire Strikes Back (McSweeney’s).
It appears that September is the quietest month, at least where this blog is concerned. Last year I spent most of September in Greece and Turkey, this year I’ve been in Ireland and Spain, and in general both Septembers have been exceptionally weak in terms of entry quality and quantity here. It’s not a situation I pride myself on, but what’s done is done, and from now on I should be well able to resume the regular programme of solipsist musings and unnecessarily detailed breakdowns of my time and money management, or lack thereof, that readers of this blog have no doubt become used to.
Phew. I was fairly worried I’d lost whatever legal mind I’d ever had over the summer, but by God this is proof I can still write the long convoluted sentences.
Southside Callbox’s Guide to Spotting the North American Rock Critic gives an invaluable guide to the world of popular music reviews, but be warned: nothing in this article will protect you from making unforgivably stupid mistakes like listening to the Pitchfork reviewer who gave This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours a 9.5. Learn from my pain, please.
The following McSweeney’s Lists (almost always best read with no further introduction than their titles alone) amused me:
While we’re on the subject, semen is apparently an anti-depressant. Pass it on.