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Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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11:12 p.m. - 2005-04-20
Okay, I don’t know if this will factor into anyone’s decision making, but I am definitely going to JournalCon this year. Yes, I am arrogant enough to believe that some people will spend big bucks and travel long distances to just meet my raggedy ass. No, seriously. I know there’s probably a couple folks who have worries about there being an In Crowd. Those with less traveled diaries might get left out. As I explained to Dichroic the other day the cool thing about JournalCons is that everybody talks to everybody. Also, except for a few household brand names (Trance, Weet, Uncle What’s-his-face) you strike up these conversations with the assumption that neither of you has read the other. No hurtsy feelings. No cliques, clubs or popularity contests. Why else bring swag? All swag is is a shameless self-promotion gimmick and one I heartily approve of. Hey, I was in sales and marketing, I might be a professional wastrel now but we hucksters never change. So (here comes the guilt trip) if I, LA who is chronically ill, perpetually broke and always overburdened with children can up and haul her butt across the entire United States, then ain’t none of you got an excuse for taking a miss on JournalCon San Diego. That goes for you foreigners* too. You’ve been promising yourself a trip to the States since ever. Wouldn’t JournalCon and seeing the lovely city of San Diego be a good enough reason to go? *Query. Are Canadians ‘foreigners’? I tend to think of Canadians as kissing kin rather than strangers. I don’t have the typical American arrogance to assume that Canada is just a huge northern state that we give a modicum of autonomy. But neither is Canada some wholly different place full of unknowns who speak an indecipherable language and eat weird food. For Better or For Worse is my favorite comic strip. The Pattersons are Canadians. Yet they are neighbors. Folks I know well and are part of my daily life. I think of all Canadians the same way. So what about you Maple Leaf folk? Are Americans foreigners or just dumb cousins you’d love to smack? I have been sucking down liquids like crazy. All this mouth breathing (no nose available) is giving me a constant case of cotton mouth. I’m still simmering too. The 87 degree afternoon high temp did NOT help things. I think the weather is going through menopause too. Either it’s snowing or it’s baking. No happy medium. Sign of an inter-species non-chauvinist behavior or warning flag that I need to get out of the house more? I talk to my plants. Yes, I know about the symbiotic carbon dioxide/oxygen thing. That’s not why I talk to my plants. I talk to them to encourage them. To tell them I appreciate their stupendous effort. Imagine! From seed to maturation to flower to seed again in just one growing season! Humans need 18-20 years to physically mature all the way. A few weeks ago all my sproutlings were wee bitty seeds and tomorrow or the next day I will be transplanting them outside. Too big for the cold frames and makeshift veggie can pots they’re in now. I do, though. I talk to my plants. I talk to trees too. However talking to trees is a less rah-rah type deal. Always felt a kinship with trees. I do not do well in places without trees. Like (cough) Texas. South Dakota was pretty disturbing too. But South Dakota had all those great tourist traps and billboards hawking said tourist traps that the stunning lack of trees wasn’t too awful. Always a Wall Drug sign to look at. ‘Only 4,378 miles to Wall Drug!’ ‘Thirsty? Cool fresh lemonade at Wall Drug! Just 3,991 miles to go!” And there was the Corn Palace. And Laura Ingalls Wilder’s home. And an endless stream of tumbledown sets, ‘Kevin Costner took a whiz here’ pit stops and hokey fake ‘locations’ for Dances With Wolves. Don’t think I could live in South Dakota, but I admire how they make the most of their bleak windy tree-less reality. I am avoiding my reality, namely I’m exhausted but if I lie down I will drown in phlegm. I also need to slurp down a gallon of apple juice. In search of rest and liquid, ~LA
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