So much to blog about, so little time to do it.
Oh, there's plenty of stories to tell here in Oxford Fucking Ohio...hopefully, over the holidays, I'll have time to ellaborate.
Christ, I'm not sure I even want to begin thinking about how to blog about the last few weeks ...
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I thought I'd share this little behind-the-blog look at the people written about in some of my posts, how they view the world - an e-mail from a friend of mine/occassional reader here in Oxford Fucking Ohio.
People often ask me how the fuck does a 28-year-old librarian blogger with a taste for Cuervo and Camel Lights stay sane in that god-awful place?"
The answer is rather simple.
As a general rule, I rely of good friends, just like everyone else....
I've always been opposed to the whole cryspace/blog thing but I've finally been pushed to read yours due to some unflattering things you supposedly said about the people we have as mutual aquaintences. I've spent a bit of time going through the back blogs you have available, right up till you mention the very conversation that made me aware of your existence as a person rather than a simple tip at said watering hole (july 25th I believe).
It's not too awfuly difficult to discern who you're talking about at times, but it seems that you're one of the few people who actually think rather than put on a show about thinking. Keeping up one end of an intelligent conversation isn't the easiest thing to find in Oxford fucking Ohio, that's for sure. Definition of conversation IMO usually involves independant thought not simply regurgitating things you've heard in other peoples intelligent conversations. I'm glad to see that none of the rumored things were said but as the rumor mill turns one has to find answers for oneself or get caught in the grinder.
It's been awhile since I've had one of those conversations in town, but I guess when you're no longer behind a bar, people aren't forced to talk to you. Simply by statistics, intelligence is bound to find one behind a bar. And it seems to me you don't really appreciate oxford for what it truly is: pre-school all over again.
We learn to share (lovers, alcohol, answers to tests), we learn to write (bar tabs, police citations, break up letters you don't have the balls to deliver in person), we learn to deal with people again (by tearing them apart, buttering them up, or breaking down their self-esteem [Miami mating rituals]), and most of all, we learn how much we don't know about the world (failing at class, at family relationships, at sexual relationships, and most certainly, at understanding the complex simplicity of society at large).
Look at me, ranting almost as badly as a certain cowboy who drinks red needles. Anyway, thought I'd drop you a line and say "omg yer so emo, /wrist and do yourself a favor plxkkthxbi".
(stupid inability of text medium to deliver sarcasm)...
The artist possibly known as J.
Last night, my main man J. - a former Oxford barkeep, was forced to stand his moral ground when a few students from the Local U. decided to abuse his generosity.
J. is, by far, one of the most intelligent, warm-hearted guys I know. And it pisses me off to no end when I see people attempt to take advantage of his compassion and kindness.
Figured I'd give the man the honor of being my first official Guest Blogger. He's earned it.
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I'll be on "official" offline vacation next week; I'm planning on ignoring any device with a microchip for most of that time.
A quick Happy Holidays to all my fellow bloggers, readers, and occassional lurkers.
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