I’ve heard people say that being Fresh Pressed isn’t what it used to be, but it made me happy. People who say they write for their own pleasure and don’t give a damn if anyone reads it are bullshit artists. Everyone craves attention. I suddenly find myself with loads of new followers. But do you know what? I’m not convinced they’re all human.
Dear New People:
A big part of my blog are these:
These are journals from when I first moved to New York. I often crack one open and post an entry. In retrospect, it turns out I was having a pretty interesting life, although I didn’t see it at the time. I was too busy being miserable.
November 2, 1992
The election is tomorrow. Clinton has a slight lead but because of the margin of error it’s a statistical dead heat. It’s very exciting. After work, I’ll go to the gym, stop and get a pizza from Sal’s and watch the returns. I think we’re in for four more years of Bush. Christ, I hope not. If Bush wins, just between you and me, I thank God I’m white, middle class and heterosexual, because minorities, the poor and gays will be in for a rough ride. Mom is throwing her vote away on that clown Ross Perot.
I had Friday off. None of my grand ambitions materialized. I played guitar (I actually think I’m getting worse), read the paper, masturbated, took a nap, drank a pot of coffee and played with the cats. I tried reading The Tin Drum by Günter Grass but the font was so small it was giving me a headache. Plus, I didn’t understand it and it was really boring, so I threw it in the garbage. I went to the laundromat. It was packed. Don’t people have jobs?
Finally left the apartment because I had tickets to see Ali, which I’d already seen but is so good that it’s worth a second look. I love one-man shows. They’re either transformational or a train wreck. I can’t decide which I find more entertaining. Klinger came with me. We stopped for a bowl of chili and, my God!, he paid! If only Klinger had a vagina. Cindy offered to pay for the movie next week. What the hell is going on? Maybe the earth passed through the tail of a comet and scrambled everyone’s DNA. I must’ve been indoors because I feel the same.
The play was great (again). We drank at Boxers after. I remember when I used to hang there in my Coast Guard days and it was Jimmy Day’s. It feels like a bunch of assholes bought my bar and made it happy. Sinatra used to drink at Jimmy Day’s. Now it’s like drinking at Kmart.
He told me Mimi stories and surprisingly, it didn’t upset me. The last time I heard her name it gave me a belly ache for a week. I wrote an apology that will never be sent. Klinger is doing a scene with her in front of an agent. I wonder why she picked him? He’s a good guy but shouldn’t she have found an actual actor? Maybe she thinks she’ll look even better in front of someone without any training. Who knows?
I took a train to Princeton to see Karen. What?! Don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t MY idea! SHE called ME. Two and a half years is a long time.
Got to Penn Station early, sat down to read the paper and was harassed by an obnoxious, aggressive homeless woman. I saw it coming. Penn Station is disgusting. Every train should leave from Grand Central. It’s got its share of homeless, but that place is an architectural marvel. Princeton is so beautiful. Do you think any of those students have the proper depth of appreciation for it? Probably not. I got there and thought she stood me up but she was just late. I was left standing alone on the platform and she zoomed up in her red Trans Am.
Lord, she’s pretty. She ditched the stone-washed jeans, which I was happy to see. The prettiest blue eyes you’ll ever see. You can get lost in them and lose the conversation thread if you’re not careful. I hadn’t shaved and she twiddled the whiskers on my chin. It was a nice flirtation.
We ate where it all started. I ordered a mimosa and she had water. She said she stopped drinking, which probably isn’t such a bad idea. She’s still having man problems, but this time with a new one. She broke up with her fiancé after the abortion. The new one is a Marine and she said terrible things about him. I listened. Then I told her how smart and beautiful she is. I told her how much I suffered after our fling and her eyes lit up and she seemed to get a warm glow about her, as though she enjoyed the idea.
We were there longer than I thought we’d be. We went for a walk in town and while in a leather shop I took her hand but it made her uncomfortable so I knocked it off. I told her I needed to get back to the city for the Village Halloween parade so she took me to the train station. We kissed in the car. I have no intention of calling her again. Once you’ve been burned, the mystique evaporates. The kiss was heartfelt but she tasted like cigarettes.
Commuter parking: The tracks of their tears.
This is a replica of the toilet in CBGB’s. It was constructed at the entrance to the PUNK: Chaos to Couture fashion exhibit that was at the Metropolitan Museum of Art a couple of years ago. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in a museum. And I’ve seen PLENTY. As if any of those Couture nitwits would have gone anywhere near CBGB’s in its day.
Exile on Pain Street 
We are not human.
You, least of all.
Seriously…I got a ton of new followers whose names are just a series of numbers and letters. It’s creepy.
It’s the Eye of Sauron. It’s real and not real and really weird. And there are not plants here, no changes in the air pattern. Just code. Yesterday I got a comment ‘you look handsome’ and it led to a porn site. I thought to report it but got kind of freaked out and just deleted it. There’s nothing to see here. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.
I may change my name to a series of numbers and letters just to creep you out further. My preferred version of my name is Wline Trten but if you add the year and smush it together, you get W2lin1e5Trt0en. I am so on my way. By the way, when X shows up, be careful. I suspect he’s a robot. Not the Replicant-type from Blade Runner but more like C-3PO. You know, funny.
I never drank at Kmart, should have when I had the chance. I used to go there to play video games, my hometown is that sad. I feel bad for Karen, don’t know why. When I read these, I never feel bad for you though. Your stories feel inevitable; the characters walking through them though, they feel kind of screwed.
And yeah, we like attention. That’s how come we’re here, right?
Huh…. My whole blog is just a series of numbers and letters.
That’s true, but your numbers and letters are arranged in a highly entertaining fashion. That reminds me of a joke.
James Joyce was sitting at a bar weeping. Ernest Hemingway walked in, saw Joyce crying, walked over and said, “What the hell’s the matter with you this time?” Joyce replied, “Ernest, I wrote nine words today!” Hemingway said, “Why are you upset?! That’s pretty good for you!” Joyce said, “Yes, but I don’t know what order they go in!”
I’m here all week.
This thread is like a bunch of guys sitting round playing poker. I think I just lost my shirt.
And NO, i’m not gonna make you guys sammiches and get more beer…
Congrats on the Freshly Pressed! That’s great. As for the toilet art–lovely…
Thanks, Carrie. It feels nice.
I think the bathroom was supposed to be ironic or tongue-in-cheek but it was just dumb.
You *know* I’m human. Sadly. Foibles and all.
But I read and love your work… and although have been told my posts get blocked at many people’s offices, I won’t link you to porn.
Oh, whoops. There’s that one post where I did. But I’m over that now.
Your blog is littered with evidence of your humanity. No question about it.
I started a new job in May and the firewall is so highly restrictive that I can’t access ANY blogs, including my own. I can’t tell you how inconvenient that is. Now, all my blogging has to be done on my own time. It’s awful.
You poor dear. And you have to fit it in between your gallery and theatre visits 🙂
Thank you for acknowledging my struggle. You’re very kind.
Look at you, Mr. Freshly Pressed! Congrats again. Can I still talk to you? I mean, leave comments?? Half my followers are a weird string of numbers, etc. and many once they follow never come back. Ask yourself, how many can you follow? But isn’t it nice to get new followers? It’s so exciting!
Once again, I’m mesmerized by your stories. Write a book, please. You have a great writing voice which really shines through here. I’m glad you didn’t call her again. That was the right move, but you knew that.
I waited a long, long, long time to be Fresh Pressed. And, quite honestly, when I re-posted the Harper Lee story, I thought to myself, if this doesn’t get Fresh Pressed, then nothing will.
I wish I had the gumption to write a book. It seems like such a monumental task. I don’t think I’ve got the proper enthusiasm to try. I’m a slacker.
I haven’t noticed the numbers and letters followers. Now, I’m going to look more closely and see how many of those I have. Maybe they’re the inhabitants of some weird blog following distant planet.
I have fond memories of the bathroom at CB’s. And some cool pics that I’d never post, not in a million years.
They have weird numbers and letters and they don’t have Gravitars. They have Gravitars that are generated by Gravitar. Do you know what I mean? I’m beginning to look at the whole thousands-of-followers phenomena with a dubious eye.
You have pics of the bathroom at CB’s? Who would have thought to take a pic of that place? All the times I went there I used it a total of ONE time. That was enough for me.
Um. I wasn’t using it to actually GO to the bathroom.
Moving on…
Do these mystery followers have a name also, like Bubba2000BK? Or just numbers and letters?
There must be a way to filter these out.
And by the way, anyone who says getting FPd isn’t what it “used” to be is sour grapes. There are over 400,000 posts published a day. They pick 10. It means something. xxo
I was never a sour grapes kind of guy when it came to being FP’d. I was always happy for people who were. I was always a why-not-me kind of guy. I wanted a banner, too! Now that I’ve finally got one, I’m not sure what to shoot for.
You wouldn’t believe where I’m typing this from. I’m in the basement of the Freehold Count Courthouse. I’m in a jury pool waiting to be either called or dismissed. Might sneak out for lunch at Federici’s.
In my opinion, this picture of a commuter parking lot (2015, snow on concrete, by unknown plow driver artist) belongs in the museum more than the CBGB bathroom.
Trent is right, I am a robot, but not like a C3PO. This guy is too obviously a robot and he’s funny unintentionally. Me – you can’t even tell the difference from a human.
P.S. Mark, are you interested in knowing how to allow people to respond to comment more than 2 comments in the thread? Or are you okay with the current set up?
That picture was quite accidental. I was looking out my office window,clicked it and sent it to My Bride. She was the one who told me it might have artistic merit.
I would absolutely be interest in a tutorial on how to allow folks to respond to multiple comments in a thread (if that’s what you’re implying). Truthfully, I have no technical skills whatsoever. I had to pay someone to set up this stupid site. I’m a little worried because that person fell off the face of the earth and if something goes wrong, I would have no idea how to fix it. Same goes for home repair. I’m helpless and hopeless. The only thing I keep in my toolbox is a checkbook.
I just e-mailed you the instructions.
And I obviously agree with your wife on the artistic merits of the photo.
But the puny amount of snow on the lot just makes me laugh derisively, after having shoveled even more snow on the tops of already 6-7 foot high piles of snow on my sidewalk.
Thanks for the tip. I wish I knew more about back-end stuff. I’ve been trying to figure out how to change my contact email address and so far, despite a few WP support desk emails, I still haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s pathetic. A high schooler could do it.
More snow coming your way. It’s like you guys are being punished for something. What did you do?
Well…. all of December and most of January I kept wishing we’d get more snow so that I could go skiing. I guess I’m just getting what I’d wished for.
How many times do prople need to be warned about that?
It’s a brilliant picture — with a most apposite title too. It should be blwon up a yard high and framed.
Well, this shows you weren’t too obsessed about sex to be thinking about the presidential election – although maybe it was sex that kept you interested in that. Did you see Bill and Hillary’s chat show performance where they denied the Gennifer Flowers allegations? I wonder what your younger self made of that.
Someone should take a leak in that “exhibit” to make it more authentic.
Oh, I had expansive interests. In this post alone I try to juggle learning guitar, staying abreast of politics, laundry, abusing myself and napping. I did it all back then. Now, I need to concentrate on just one thing at a time.
If you follow the hotlink in that paragraph, it leads to an exhibit of urinals that ultimately sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars. I was going to take a leak in those and call it my “art.”
Hi Mark – Glad to see you’re keeping it real after reading this post and esp after becoming famous! Congratulations – you absolutely deserve it. Funny thing, I had just seen that move when I met Trent’s “Superstar” piece, and the bathroom was the first thing to come to my mind – makes for a great metaphor on many levels. If you’re not working on a book right now, you should be.
Hello, Nurse K. I’m happy to see you here. There’s no way being Freshly Pressed could turn me into a raging egomaniac. My self-esteem is so beaten and damaged that I don’t think it’s possible.
Ah, a book. To write a book would be a sweet, satisfying adventure, but I don’t have it in me to do it, mainly because I am too much of a slacker. I didn’t set the world on fire professionally and don’t think I have whatever it takes to sit and bang out a book.
Maybe a compilation of your files and folders and blog posts then – I hope
That sounds more “do-able” than creating a novel with a plot to link all these posts together but I’m not sure where I’d find the time.
Truth be told, I’m betting I’ll always find an excuse to not start it. It’s a terrible example to set for my daughters. I should rise above my reluctance.
Glad to see you’re not pandering to the masses.
I *am* the masses.
True. I make a mass of myself all the time.
Congratulations, Monsieur Pain!!!
You’ll be spammed crazy now 🙂
Sx
I suspect that’s exactly what many of these new followers are all about. Spam. I use my regular email as my blog contact but I don’t think that’s such a smart idea anymore (if it ever was).
The trouble is, you are using one of those WordPress templates that doesn’t show the widgets on the post pages. So visitors who go straight to a post without going via the homepage, won’t get to see your gleaming Freshly Pressed badge! I originally used this same template as you, and that’s the reason I changed mine – not specifically because of FP, this was before I was FPd, but just because I wanted every visitor to be able to see the widgets on the side, so I wanted a template where that happens – your subscribers never see them otherwise because they just go straight to the post each time. (I’m speaking too long about that one issue aren’t I).
I know that I, and others, have often said you should write a book, and you always negate the idea, but one day you might find you suddenly want to, so do allow yourself to remain open to the idea so that you don’t shut it out if the urge arrives one day! Pointless to try and make yourself do it if you don’t have the urge though, it’ll never get finished.
I get the letter/number followers too. The vast majority of followers don’t comment anyway, but it’s still nice to see the follower numbers go up isn’t it!
So I need to change the template?! That gives me a small panic attack. I’ve got visions of me making a capital improvement and my blog completely disappearing when I hit the Update button. It can happen! I should hire some 10th grader to fix this for me. It’s a sign of the times that they could accomplish this with a snap of their fingers whereby I would struggle for days. True story: I just had to email WP support because I want to replace the email address in my contact form from my personal email to a more generic one but I COULDN’T FIGURE IT OUT. Even that small task flummoxed me, so you can imagine what a template change would do!
I’m not completely opposed to the idea but here the truth (because that what we do with total strangers; tell the truth) I’ll write a book, not see my daughters or wife as much and in the end nothing will happen. I know that sounds AWFUL and defeatist but that’s what in my head and heart.
Yes, changing the template is a bit scary, I found it so when I did it. You can preview your blog in different templates, but some things don’t translate properly and you have to tinker a bit, and you can’t do that until you’ve committed to the change. You certainly don’t have to change it, I just think it’s a shame to not see the widgets!
I get what you’re saying about the book. Just never say never is all!
Well, I was unaware of the widget issue and now it’s going to be my new obsession. I wonder why it was set up this way? I may have mentioned in the past that I paid good, American dollars to set this site up. I had to! I didn’t know where to begin! I’d be willing to pay again to fix it but I have no idea where to turn.
If you find a little local web developing company, they’re bound to have a WordPress geek there, they’d do it for you, what they’d charge I don’t know but they’ll likely do a good job if they’re a proper web company. No harm in getting a quote?
My new obsession! Thanks for the tips. Seriously. I had no idea any of that was going on.
I would offer to help myself (at no charge) but I’m really not technical myself, I fumble my way around and get there in the end, but I wouldn’t inflict that on someone else’s site!
You could if you were hyper-competitive and wanted to ambush the competition. 😉
” Once you’ve been burned, the mystique evaporates” So true and very well written.
Thank you for that, and thanks for the visit. In hindsight, (remember, this was 1992 and I was still a kid) I don’t know if that’s always true. I was burned many times by women who continued to mystify me. Sometimes, you have to be burned a few times in order for the mystique to completely vanish.
I’m wondering if you edit these old journal writings before putting them on your blog.
It’s a long time ago but the writing was fluent and flowing even then.
I do some mild editing but I don’t have the time or inclination for a major re-write. The spelling and grammar is awful. I still don’t have punctuation right but you should have seen it then! It’s scary!
“Don’t look at me like that!” HA! That’s what I need a journal that listens and cares about me like yours does. Congratulations on being freshly pressed! How exciting!! As always I love your diary posts very very much and have also been thinking about your Harper Lee post off and on all week.
Thanks for your kind words, Linda. I thought of those stupid journals as living, breathing beings. I didn’t have a ton of friends and couldn’t afford a therapist, so the journals became my de facto dumping ground. There’s a lot of stuff I’d never post. Pages and pages of bitching and moaning. But it helped me.
I’m the same way. My journals have helped me through this life and I honestly don’t know how people can cope without a journal to lean on. I probably have 7 or 8 that are completely full on both sides of the page to the end. The trouble is now, I can’t decide whether I’d ever want anyone else to read them. To destroy or not to destroy that is the question.
That’s a CONSTANT battle for me. I don’t want my daughters or wife reading the raw material and, by all rights, I should burn them. I’ve actually tried a couple of times but always stop myself. I’m not sure what to do. It’s a big worry.
What the fuck is Freshly Pressed? and that craves attention bullshit, you’re right, 99.9 percent of the blogosphere is nothing but attention craving half-wits and hacks but they all need the attention and validation, it’s the sychophant’s cycle of ass-licking and what not, i understand it fully, 7 years ago i fell into that category, got caught up in that bullshit but guess what? as Django said i am that 1 in 10,000, i leave comments in exactly two places, here and at Daisy’s, i don’t troll around and blow sunshine up people’s asses, i do what i do and the lounge is a good place to practice and being lazy and all it’s what i’m used to when not fucking about with MS Word, sometimes i wish i had my old electric back but i digress, of course people create in hopes that someone will connect with what’s created but be it 1 or 1,000 or 100,000 it doesn’t matter, the whole problem these days is that people chase fame and recognition and not art or the honing of a craft, i’ll take the latter, i’m not into marketing or selling… thank you and goodnight. Transmission from X582QRT96
So you’re royalty now? A King? I was listening to Sinatra just yesterday and he said, “Love laughs at a King. Kings don’t mean a thing” and I thought of how beautiful that is. The fact that no man is more powerful than love. I recently read a bunch of books on Henry VIII and although that guy ruled the world, he was beaten down by love. That taught him.
Yeah, I want attention. I wish that weren’t the case but you know the story…my daddy didn’t tell me I was special so I have to find someone else to fill in the blanks. Pathetic but the first step is admitting you have a problem. And I have a problem.
Look at me trying to alienate one of my only readers, haha, i understand man i do, for some reason my usual shit didn’t come up in the comment posting thingy so i used a new name, and you do know that Kono is an acronym for the King Of North Oakland, much like the Pope of Greenwich Village, a moniker for a street hood but we’ll get to that part someday and i will admit it can be lonely being King and when i was i too was beaten down by love… last time i let something like that happen.
Now, see, I had no idea what kono was an acronym for, but I’ve always wondered. I was too embarrassed to ask. I thought I should have known by now.
So you’ll never be beaten down by love again? Is that what you’re claiming? Famous last words.
aw, shit… i didn’t realize that the exiled one and i are the only two places you still comment. i’m feeling kinda honored, dear king asshat… i really think a roadtrip is in order. if i trusted the damn jaguar to go more than 50 miles without needing a $400 light bulb replaced, i’d drive through the ‘burgh, pick up a tall, furry man, and drive straight through to jersey…
I think his claim of having just two readers is highly exaggerated. We might be the only ones who comment on a regular basis, but I’m certain there are others.
Holy shit!!! Comment moderation? Say it ain’t so Joe!
What ‘chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis? I ain’t got no comment moderation. The fist time someone comments it has to be approved but after that the pipe is open. This sure as shit ain’t your first time so I don’t know what need to be moderated.
Human here.
While I liked your FP piece, I think it’s the tupperware of journals that reminds me of the one I also have sitting here in the corner. And the fact that you actually post excerpts from them that hooked me. A combo of me being a voyeur and appreciating your (often hilarious) writing.
While I have never been ‘Pressed’, I did have a post go crazy (for me) viral with a few thousand hits over 2 days because it was shared by Cheryl Strayed. That was exciting and generated some new blogging buddies I might never have had. Now I’m once again back to being thrilled by 20 hits. It’s still a marvel – being able to reach readers in a flash – all those damn journals – who were we writing them for? Ourselves? I don’t know – but your excerpts read like you expected them to be read and I think I always did too.
Hellooooo, human! Thanks for stopping by and thanks, especially, for your flattering words. If I knew where you lived I’d send roses. I am highly susceptible to flattery. The whole viral post thing is a nice occurrence. The thrill eventually fades but it’s fun while it lasts. Cheryl Strayed is a good ‘get.’ I’d try to foster that friendship if I were you.
Your journals are a goldmine. You should crack those babies open and start excavating. But I have to warn you: Some things were forgotten as a defense mechanism. They don’t need to be remembered. Your journal is going to dig a lot of that crap up. Just be ready for it. I have more debauched tales in the Memoir category.
Way to go on the FP. Past due, Mark. Damned if I know what the WP editors fancy as good writing, but yours from then and now often is. Once in a while I put a Throwback up about my family connections and how that shaped me through the years — my version of your journal only I’m just getting around to writing it now because all I thought about was writing my newspaper stories for 30 freaking years — and I think maybe … perhaps … this one … but, nah. In any case, be proud, and fly that banner proudly.
Hey, if you want to do a blind-leading-the-blind on a changing of the theme some night, send me an email and we can exchange cell numbers and I’ll talk you through it. I changed my fonts and rearraranged my widgets last week, on my iPad, and nothing disappeared. Knock on wood. At least I won’t charge you.
The CBGB bathroom is way better than the plain white pissoirs of the million-dollar exhibits, by the way. At least this one was copying some pop culture, something of substance to somebody at some point, where the punks went and scribbled their names between getting high and taking a leak.
I try not to get all wrapped-up in the mechanics or philosophy of what drives the Fresh Pressed editors. I see some stuff thrown up that’s mildly amusing at best, but that’s more a function of personal preference vs. a statement of quality. I know it helps if someone who has already been FP’d recommends or tweets a post. I had someone champion that Harper Lee post (two people, actually). If they hadn’t called attention to it, it might have gone unnoticed.
I don’t know if I want to fiddle with the template. It hums well enough for me although Vanessa made some intriguing comments above about widgets not being visible to some readers. I’ll probably tend to it right after I write a book based on my journals. Ha.
I’ve used the actual bathroom at CB’s and it’s nothing to be romanticize or that needs to be revisited, especially for the sake of irony.
If you change your mind about the theme because of the widget on the post page, my email is markbialczak@gmail.com. Have a good day, Mark. Temps in the teens up here today, and they’re saying snow Thursday through Saturday and “deep arctic plunge” with zero high starting Friday. But pitchers and catchers report in Florida at the end of next week and I read yesterday that Matt Harvey already showed up at Mets camp.
I actually think the FP editors are improving. The piece of yours they chose was well worth being read by the community — humans and robots alike.
Now do you see what I meant that many aren’t real followers?
Thanks, Elyse. I *DO* see what you mean. I get about a dozen or so new follows a day since being FP’d (it’s starting to trickle off) and a few of them have indecipherable names. Once in a while, I’ll click on a URL and it’s always a dead end. Here comes spam!
Wouldn’t life be great if this was the worst problem either of us had?!?!
Amen, he agreed.
I’m really happy for you, Mark. Freshly pressed is quite an honor.
Thanks for that. The thrill and attention will wear off. Already, several new FP posts have piled on top of mine, but it’s nice while it lasts.
I had to return to your blog. The damn notification itty bitty “spot” is driving me crazy where it is too difficult to type. I left my reply unfinished for a couple of minutes. Then one of my almost 16-year old cats must have stepped on the keyboard and it was gone, so I came all the way back over here.
Anyway, what I have to write is just crap but there are two ways to look at FP on WP. Bask in the honor, and accept it as a an excellent achievement which made you the envy or should that be enemy of many bloggers. 🙂
As long as you keep your blog alive, your words will be in cyberspace or whatever you wish to call blogging. On the other hand if your article had appeared in a magazine or the newspaper it might be on the bottom of a bird cage or on the floor for some dog to urinate on.
I hope you see the humor in what I just wrote but on the other hand it really is not that dang funny. 🙂
~yvonne
That bathroom really creeps me out. There are some weird things in art museums.
Why they felt the need to ‘recreate’ that and what it had to do with fashion are beyond me. And speaking of clothes–the fashions of that era were born out of poverty. Out of being too broke to buy new clothes. Now, all these decades later, high couture decides to embrace it? The looked down their noses at those people. Don’t get me started.
Yeah, I’m too young to remember the 90’s grunge style, so I didn’t understand it at all when it came back around. But I also don’t get a lot of fashion trends and I’d wear yoga pants to work every day if I could (and not the $200 see-through kind, the $25 Target kind). I seriously doubt that I’m the fashion industry’s target market.
I take a grim view of fashion. I’ve always felt it was a predatory industry. It preys on the vanity and insecurities of (mainly) women. Their job is to convince you that you’re nothing without their product. There’s something sinister about that. Who judges you more than fashionistas? There worse than food snobs — and that’s saying something.
You might be bummed to know that I’m real. Congrats on being Freshly Pressed! It’s much deserved. Your writing draws me in and I have to read it.
I don’t mind that you’re real. Especially when you say flattering things like that. And besides, we can’t all be unfeeling machines. Someone needs to oil us.
Or provide us with beer. 😉
Congratulations on the Freshly Pressed!
Cheers,
QM6H3YASB
Thank you, QM6H3YASB (aka meat dorp from plant Zolton).
Why would anyone take their meat another way????
“She broke up with her fiancé after the abortion.”
Now that sounds like quite a woman! And a drinking problem? She was right up my alley at around the same age that she walked down your alley . . .
That girl was tragic. She was really a sweet kid and so, so pretty. But she couldn’t pick a decent man to save her life. I’d have liked to be with her but she wasn’t interested. One of the thousands who weren’t. She’s another reason I don’t want a Facebook page. I don’t need to look for trouble.
and here i was thinking Fresh Pressed was something completely different. i’m not sure if i’m even blogging anymore, much less reading, sugar. *cheers*
My blog post was Fresh Pressed last week but the kind of fresh pressing you’re referring to hasn’t happened in a long, long time. What do you mean you’re not blogging? Here you are!
Hi — couple of things lost to this Englishman in our common language. Can I ask — what is “freshly pressed” and why is everyone congratulating you on being it? “Freshly pressed” is the state of your trousers after you’ve collected them from the pressers, so I’m struggling to think what it means for a blog entry. Aren’t all blog entries “fresh”?
What was CBDB (or whatever the acronym was?)
And I know this is only to complicate matters, but I wish you (and everyone else) would ditch the world’s most awkward, user-unfriendly blogging machine ever invented, aka WordPress.
Sorry — I looked up the “freshly pressed” thing. Let me add my congratulations too.
I agree that WordPress is bother but that’s where the crowds flock. And as I’ve freely admitted in the past, I crave attention. This attitude will get me nowhere in the long run but it provides occasional joy. Like when I’m being fresh pressed!
C = Country
BG = Blue Grass
B = Blues
Yes, it started out as a country bar.
You really do tell a good tale, and you have useful tales to tell. Your degree of self-awareness is pretty high, and we all like reading about a really smart guy who is just as fucked up as we are… Don’t throw out the journals. This post is a reminder that there is gold in there… i cracked up at your description of the meet up with Karen. Damn, son… i have done the same thing. Thinking i’d wonder about it forever if i didn’t accept the coffee date with an old
fuckbuddyboyfriend. It has NEVER been worth the time. Close doors with considered, deliberate action. And move the fuck on…I am totally fucked up! Thank you for saying so. I feel I’m in good company.
In retrospect I have to admit that, at that time, I was so shallow and vapid that the only reason I met Karen again was because I was infatuated with her beauty. That was enough of a reason for me. Now, of course, I realize things are a little more complicated than that.
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An excellent volley, H.A.L.
Damn! I was sure I’d said something sassy here…I guess the week was crazier than it seemed. I’ve said before and I’ll say it again, those old stories are gold.Keep spooning us some now and then, please.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, thank you for stopping by and saying such flattering things about my scribbles. I really do enjoy doing it. These little walks down memory lane are mostly healthy. There’s some stuff that occasionally knocks me on my knees, but I get past it and get back to the happy memories.
Happy Valentine’s Day to one of my absolute favorite bloggers. I “like” your posts but for whatever fucked-up WordPress reason I never see my avatar coming up on your stamps. Congrats on the whole Fresh Pressed thing. It is sorely deserved. And I’m jealous as hell.
P.S. “Tracks of their tears” — LOL. Oh please tell me you weren’t thinking of Linda’s version when you captioned that.
What an incredibly generous thing to say. And thanks for your holiday wishes. Ah…what would we all do without Valentine’s Day? Don’t be jealous. It’s satisfying to be picked. but it leads to a load of spam, too. Must there ALWAYS be a price to pay?