Wise Words

"It sometimes seems we have a world full of bloggers and that blogging is the future of journalism, or at least that's what the bloggers argue, and to my mind, it's not clear yet whether blogging is anything more than CB radio. And, you know, give it five or 10 years and see if any institutions emerge out of it. It's possible that in the end there may be some small subset of people who find a livelihood out of it and that the rest of the people will find that, you know, keeping their diaries online is not the most useful thing to with their time."

-- John Markoff

Busy Busy Busy Bee

I'm about to get very busy and not be blogging too often.

New Blog in Blogsville

David Isen's smart, not stupid, new blog is up. Don't miss it.

Alpha Male Walks

Walks, like walks off the scene. Like dies. Inspiration for James Bond passed away today. Kinda sad.

Money Talks

Dean raises $15M. Wow, this is good.

Anil -- See Ya At 4

If you need me before then, call my cell, I'll be offline most of the day. And remind me, man ... are you a Yankees Fan? I hope not ... but I'll forgive you if so. As long as they don't win.

When You Wake Up And Find You Are NOT Steve Bartman Today -- Be Happy

Yes, Steve Bartman, the fan who caught that ball in the Cubs game, is the guy you don't want to be today.

Florida can't get enough of the guy however. The governor had kind words for him and a local Holiday Inn owner in Pompano Beach invited him to come down to Florida and hide out at the beach for three months until things calm down in Chicago.

And you notice, at least now, it's almost impossible to find a picture of Steve Bartman -- at least I haven't seen any yet.

Bummed About The Cubs

Me and a few million other people I figure were pretty bummed to see the Cubs go down the drain. Yikes.

Tonight at 8:00

Looks like the game is at 8:00 tonight. I hope my Yankee fan friends aren't too totally obnoxious.

Gotta remember to fill the car up with gas to be sure to get out of there FAST if Boston wins -- they will NOT be happy campers.

The Red Sox Really Won Last Night!

I still can't get over it. Lots of fun -- spaghetti and meat balls, great salad with Italian dressing we ordered in from a local joint.

Tonight will be even more insane ... problem is, I'll be in an anti-Red Sox pro-Yankees household for the game -- could be treacherous. Wish me safe passage.

Whoops!

It ends up I've gone and named one of my new characters in "How To Ruin A Perfectly Good Salesforce in Ten Easy Steps" after a real person -- a new friend I'd met in email! Ugh! So sorry, the mind works in mysterious ways and a writer's mind is really a weird playhouse. Maybe I'll need to pay you a licensing fee. Or more likely change the spelling of the name, but it's a great name, I don't want to change it.

Off To See The Sox Win

Thanks for all the RSS help -- much appreciated. Now, can you guys also make the Sox win? I'm headed over to a party, pit stop for beer and then I'm there. And outta here.

RSS Question No. 2

And if I post something and it goes out on RSS with a link in it to another site -- and yes, if I used an aggregator I would know this, but who has the time? Anyway, if it has a link in it, is it an enabled hot link that you can click and go to? Or do you have to come to my site to actually use the links?

RSS Numbers

I know I should know the answer to this and it's obvious to all the rest of your brainiacs, but let me get this RSS math straight. If I post something that goes out on RSS and someone reads it, but does NOT click through to my site, then I don't really get an accurate count of how many people are reading my stuff. True or False?

So if you click on my site, those numbers are reflected in my site statistics, but if you read me in RSS -- I don't get any way of knowing those numbers?

Black Bean Soup And Heineken

Excellent lunch. Good food, good company, good beer.

[Click JA when they ask you if you're 18 years old.]

Maybe, I'm Amazed

[This was in my mind today, can't say why. Just one I've always liked.]

Baby I’m amazed at the way you love me all the time
Maybe I’m afraid of the way I’ll leave you
Baby, I’m amazed at the way you fool me all the time
You hung me on a line
Baby, I’m amazed at the way I really need you

Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something
That he doesn’t really understand
Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
You’re the only woman that could ever help me
Baby, won’t you try to understand

Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something
That he does not really understand
Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
You’re the only one that could ever help me
Baby, won’t you try to understand

Baby, I’m amazed at the way you’re with me all the time
Baby, I’m afraid of the way I’ll leave ya’
Baby, I’m amazed at the way you help me sing the song
You right me when I’m wrong
Baby I’m amazed at the way I really need you

Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something
That he does not really understand
Baby, I’m a man, oh baby,
You’re the only woman that could ever help me
Baby, won’t you try to understand

California Dreamin'

[Yes, our weather's beginning to turn rainy, windy, cooler. Boston, Boston, Boston, remind me why I live here?]

All the leaves are brown
And the sky is grey
I went for a walk
On a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm
If I was in L.A.
California dreamin'
On such a winter's day

I stopped into a church (stopped into a church)
I passed along the way (passed along the way)
You know, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)
And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)
Oh, the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold)
He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)
Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')
On such a winter's day

All the leaves are brown (the leaves are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I went for a walk (I went for a walk)
On a winter's day (on a winter's day)
If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her)
I could leave today (I could leave today)

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')
On such a winter's day (California dreamin')
On such a winter's day (California dreamin')
On such a winter's day (California dreamin')
On such a winter's day

Leading MILF Economic Indicators

Nice to know you're in the hottest new demographic. All you business majors and MBA's won't want to miss this post by Baccus about where money in the new economy is really being made. The darnest thing is a nice gentleman once tried to make me believe the "M" in MILF stood for Mature Women. Funny I don't remember Maturewomen being one word. He was adamant. He could not admit that the "M" stood for Mom. Funny, it must have been an edible, I mean, Oedipal thing.

Glad There's A Priest In The House

AKMA's at DigitalID World too, which is always good. I'm sure he'll have lots to say. It starts with this.

Oh Mama!

Denise Howell -- mega-blogger of Bag and Baggage -- and soon to be mega-mom with Diaper Bag and Baby Baggage, looks so great pregnant! Make sure they feed you non-stop at the DigitialID Conference and have fun. My last three months (except for the whale-waddling) were much more fun than my first three.

For Your Eyes Only

Wow, Betsy Devine points today to Danny O'Brien's right-on notion that in fact blogs can carry on a very private conversation.

I haven't heard anyone express it quite that way, but he's right. I can say things here that are completely private and would have meaning only to one particular person when they read them. The rest of you can stand there and go, "Hmmmm .... what's she up to?" but I can be very private in public ... or is it very publically private?

With songs for instance, I almost never post song lyrics without them actually being a message to a specific person. They are never casual. They are aimed right at some one person.

With a poem, there is nothing random about who I'm writing to. They know. Others probably don't, but I don't care.

With a story, there may be a general audience, but still there will be private jokes embedded that are meant for some particular person.

Is this a medium of public privacy?

Highs and Rushes

Andrew Sullivan speculates about how high Rush Limbaugh might have been on OxyContin. I can tell you how high I was on Oxycondone since that's what they gave me this summer when I got that deep puncture wound to my foot at the SuperNova Conference in DC.

Different from Limbaugh, I was in a excruciating pain and the meds were appropriately prescribed for that reason. Also perhaps different from Limbaugh, I can't stand taking drugs -- even when I'm sick -- so I stopped taking it after about a day because I was so totally wasted on the stuff, I remember thinking at the end of one dosage, as my mind cleared, if my foot went gangrenous and fell off, I wouldn't even notice if I had enough of this drug in me.

It think this is a leftover from being really ill when I was a kid and being given a lot of weird mediicine, including Perigoric. I can't stand feeling so out to lunch. All it brings up for me is feeling panicked, not relaxed. Some how, even as a kid, I got the notion that if they're giving you the big drugs, you're in big trouble. My idea of a rush is getting OUT of a hospital and getting OUT of bed and getting well.

I remember Joi Ito and Liz Lawley at the conference leaving me voice mails, inviting me to join them for drinks or a meal in the hotel, or just checking on me and as I listened to the messages, thanks to the drugs, I couldn't parse the words ... I would think, "hotel bar ... what's that?"

When I got home, I hid the stuff in my briefcase and put the briefcase, which I rarely use, deep into my closet, to keep the stuff away from me. It was a temptation, especially when my foot would start to ache -- it would also make me sleep for 12 hours that felt like 12 minutes and I have enough insomnia to find that pretty attractive.

Over the months, I forgot about ithe pills completely. Weirdly, I dug out the same briefcase for BloggerCon -- it holds a lot of papers and I needed to drag a bunch along for my presentation.

That morning, I was looking inside it for a pen and found the Oxycondone -- jumped back from it -- like it was a snake ready to bite me. I had just enough time to visit the Ladies Room, and down the toilet all the evil little pills went. I was glad to be rid of them.

Don't Mess With Gnome Girl

Holy heck! All I can say is "WAY TO GO" to hear about you telling this idiot not to talk to a woman that way. You kick ass, girl, whether or not you ever do any actual kicking.

Clear Winner

David Weinberger points us to this "Caption Contest" and a really weird picture of Gephardt, Kerry and Dean. Now tell me -- surely Eric Raymond takes away the top honors. He's the clear winner if you ask me -- scroll down into the comments on the page for his hysterical short and sweet caption. And believe me, the guy knows about testosterone.

Carve Out A Life

An unusual residual from reading this book about re-imagining business has struck me ... that is, re-imagining a life. Carving out a life that fits you. A life that fits you exactly. A life tailored to you -- as if -- it were your life. I worry we are all living a life someone else thinks we should be living.

Take an inventory of all the things you have going on in your life. Decide which really matter and which really don't. It can be a little shocking. Like cleaning out closets, when you are done, you wonder, why was I keeping all that crap around here anyway?

I've had the added pleasure of helping clean out old clothes and stuff of my parents after they were gone and it makes it painfully clear how much stuff just doesn't matter. Are we lost in a swamp of stuff and a swirl of little pieces of paper and a wind that blows us here and there and everywhere for no good reason?

There's just no doubt that we're all dying. And still, every day we put off real and authentic relationships with living human beings and choose other silly busy work, to get through our days instead. Perhaps its just too frightening to look others straight in the eye. Maybe we will find that truth I mentioned, right there in their deep regard, that we are all dying.

The only people left who seem to know how to enjoy the liveliness of a day are children. When I'm with my son, there is no shying away from rolling down a green summer grassy hill, or throwing yourself into a cold lake, or letting ice cream melt and drip all over your face. They do not hold back.

We still think someone's watching. We think someone's deciding if we're pretty or handsome enough. We think someone's deciding if our car is cool enough. We think someone's deciding whether or not to be our friend based on whether our house, apartment, mansion, or hut is good enough.

No one is watching. They are too busy dying.

Take It Easy

There are ways to just slow down. Maybe we've all forgotten them. Time to do some remembering.

Sorry, Kevin

I got all mixed-up there for a minute, Kevin. You're a Brit, but I forgot you live here in the USA. I get it now. You did the consulting on the Las Vegas Collection. Taupe-less Showgirls, hmmmm ...

Fess Up Gary and Euan!

The new fall nail polish colors from OPI are all about the UK. I have a sneaking suspicion that Gary Turner and Euan Semple have been consulting with the lovely lacquer ladies over at OPI. I'm sure they told their wives the assignment was with the British Secret Service, or some rubbish, while they were actually test painting young ladies toes with blushing reds.

But check out but these names. "Edin-burgundy" my arse. It all points the finger at these two wild and crazy Scots living in London.

I've been wearing Blushingham Palace lately, which strangely matched the Harvard BloggerCon conference folders -- like Harvard Crimson but a little shinier and little more pink.

THE BRITISH COLLECTION

Friar, Friar, Pants on Fire!
A red so hot it's almost scandalous!

Blushingham Palace
A sweet, dusty pink that's royally pretty!

Edin-burgundy
Great Scot! What a fabulous shade of claret red!

God Save the Queen's Nails
A regal wine-purple that's the crowning touch!

Bare it in Trafalgar Square
A creamy nude that everyone's talking about!

Double Decker Red
A classic, true red that stops traffic everywhere!

My Throne for a Cranberry Scone
What would you give up for this luscious berry shade?

Fee Fi Fo Plum
Plum pudding purple - yum!

Lighten Up, You're Two Pence!
A glistening, pretty-penny copper.

Chocolate Shake-speare
To be or not to be … the color of milk chocolate.

London Bridge Is Falling Brown
A warm, rich brick shade.

Abbey Rose
A cool, rockin' rose that's an instant classic.

Wait, wait, maybe I'm wrong. It's Kevin Marks who's behind all this!

Madder Lake

If at Madder Lake
we row your boat
and you find the
rames in French
or oars in English
don't take us where you wish
we'll bail.

If at Madder Lake
you find I'm making you
a little or a lot mad
you may resist
never speak of it
never speak again
never wanting to rock your boat
never my intention

If at Madder Lake
the surface of the water
glows red and passionate
perhaps a swim
is indicated
or perhaps it is not
a good row to hoe

If at Madder Lake
there is splashing
and laughing and
the whole thing is just silly
that's just fine
ca va bien and then some
back to its mooring
the boat shall go.

Where Violet May Hide

I met a poet by chance, at a bookstore the other day and I'm finding words are pouring down around me suddenly, all around me, like leaves falling. I'm picking them up, much more deliberately, much more slowly, taking time to really look them over. Not just the bright side, but the muted side as well. Handling them carefully. Maybe I will paste them in an album.

He is making me see things in a different way. I think my new eyes are up to the job.

I just read this, "violet is red withdrawn from humanity by blue." I guess when blue takes you by the hand, you don't resist.

I feel ready to withdraw from humanity into dark dark blue. I guess I feel a little red, and ready to hide under a violet blanket.

He made me dig out old poems and I showed them all to him. I've been forgetting so many things about my quiet self, but he might help me remember.

Serious Leaf Peeping

Well, there's some serious leaf-peeping going on here. Or what normal people call "taking in the fall foliage." I know you've heard it before if you've been reading my blog in the past few months, but after my eye surgery, everything is just so gorgeous and this is the first autumn I've ever seen the leaves so well.

Spent a lot of time outside yesterday with a friend just looking at the leaves -- it's nearly peak for peeping -- and boy, is it something to see. Can't even find words for the colors, but I'll try. Copper and cadmium yellow and rust and persimmon and vermillion -- what a swoon of color.

There's a bike path where you can walk, run, rollerskate, bike, scooter, you name it from my town all the way into Cambridge -- a good hour's walk -- and it was full of people ecstatically enjoying yesterday's terrific weather. With our ski underwear hanging at the ready on the closet door, we don't miss an opportunity to enjoy what's left of fall around here.

Read 'Em And Weep You Guys

Okay, as long as I can blame this on Jeff Jarvis, it's cool. He started it, I didn't!

Jeff decided to blog about the traffic Instapundit gets (Go Glenn!) and Kos gets (also, way to go, though I don't know you man).

It's terrific to steal a peek behind the scenes at the Instapundit site meter. It's off the charts. You rule!

Conference Thoughts

Robert Scoble's written a very important blog post about conferences in general and BloggerCon and Foo Camp in particular, which took place respectively last weekend and this weekend. Make sure to read it.

I've been in the conference business for quite a while, first with TTI Vanguard, where the model was annual member subscriptions, five conferences a year, a committed Board of Advisors, and NO sponsorships. This is unique model fosters an amazing community and an openness as members are not there for a one-shot deal, but are ongoing members. Without vendor sponsorship, you are never served up a speaker pretending to be unbiased, but is really just a pitchman.

I also worked for these folks, here at Harvard Business School Publishing's Conference Group. They did have sponsors, but mostly managed not to have flat-footed sales pitches from those sponsors, and they always knew how to pack the room with top talent, both in the speaker slots AND in the audience.

I would add only one thing. In the best conferences, you go away thinking "Wow, I really learned something," or even better, "Wow, it was great to meet that person I've been hearing about and reading about but never got to talk to up close." I think those experiences make or break a conference.

Any good conference is a mix of traveling think-tank and celebrity event. There need to be stars in the room that people are excited about seeing. You need some rock star type talent. Also, you need to make that person be accessible. One of the things Scoble is writing about is how people really were accessible after hours and "out of the room" at both conferences, instead of the old model where Mr. Keynote flies in, gets handled by handlers up to the podium, does his thing and gets whisked away to where only oh-so-special keynote guys hang out on the remote Planet Fabulous. We've all had enough of that.

Job Fair

I saw a sign the other day that said: "JOB FAIR" and then the top listing said "ELVES WANTED" I'm not kidding.

This is some incredible new economy. Forget the nicely pressed grey suit, starched white shirt and shined up black leather shoes for your interview. Put on the green and red felt costume and knock 'em dead.

Christmas Shopping

Doing it all today. I'm almost always late and I can get it knocked out fast today online. Putting on the red fur santa hat, see ya later.

Divine Dinner

Betsy, that was the most divine dinner the other night. Keep meaning to thank you for it and rave about all your super-cool blogging lately. Go girl!

San Francisco

C'est une maison bleue
Adossée à la colline
On y vient à pied, on ne frappe pas
Ceux qui vivent là, ont jeté la clé
On se retrouve ensemble
Après des années de route
Et l'on vient s'asseoir autour du repas
Tout le monde est là, à cinq heures du soir
Quand San Francisco s'allume
Quand San Francisco s'embrume
San Francisco, ou êtes vous
Lizzard et Luc, Psylvia, attendez-moi

Nageant dans le brouillard
Enlacés, roulant dans l'herbe
On écoutera Tom à la guitare
Phil à la kena, jusqu'à la nuit noire
Un autre arrivera
Pour nous dire des nouvelles
D'un qui reviendra dans un an ou deux
Puisqu'il est heureux, on s'endormira
Quand San Francisco se lève
Quand San Francisco se lève
San Francisco ! où êtes vous
Lizzard et Luc, Psylvia, attendez-moi

C'est une maison bleue
Accrochée à ma mémoire
On y vient à pied, on ne frappe pas
Ceux qui vivent là, ont jeté la clef
Peuplée de cheveux longs
De grands lits et de musique
Peuplée de lumière, et peuplée de fous
Elle sera dernière à rester debout
Si San Francisco s'effondre
Si San Francisco s'effondre
San Francisco ! Où êtes vous
Lizzard et Luc, Psylvia attendez-moi

-- Maxime LeForestier

Not At All Sure Why This Came Up

Je ne suis pas de tout certaine pourquoi j'ai tiree cette carte.

Je suis innocente moi. Je vous jure.

Here's the link for your Card-Of-The-Day. Have a good one.

Oui, oui, oui

Je veux dire, yes, yes, yes.

Dat vind ik leuk.

Daar hou ik van.

Dat windt me werkelijk op.