Shame on you, Burning Man. You fooled me…and tried to fool many of us. What are you really, Burning Man, if you now whore for attention in the worst possible of ways. You’ve grown too damned slick for your own good and gorged yourself on the tyranny of mainstream…becoming the very thing you now *pretend* to rail against. It’s called being a fraud. Shame on you.
and Always. Everywhere.
I’m writing in a way that I’ve never written before. Upending my “usual” process of editing and reediting before going forward.
This time, it’s something like a Jackson Pollock painting. Everything coming out everywhere. Getting the guts out in any order, any kind of way. Letting them spill out as they want.
How I will eventually thread all of this together will be a fascination to me as well. But I hear it can be done…that most writing processes tend to follow this kind of “write like a lunatic” method.
And so. It’s far easier for me to say these days that The Lunatic is indeed in the Blog.
A soggy tomato sulking on a fat-dripped proper English Breakfast plate….
It means nothing. It means nothing precisely because it happens constantly. And more constantly than ever before, if that makes any sense. Hear me out. Change is so constant now, that it’s hardly novel. It no longer shocks. It no longer causes society – or even you, or even me, because what the hell is “society” anyway – to stop and look and wonder.
Change no longer provokes.
Or makes one uncomfortable.
Because Change Is.
Change Just Is.
So tell me now…exactly…what is new, exactly? Aside from “everything”…
A lovely message from Zander Greene, one of the original small set of persons who brought the whole idea of Fantasy Faire to life all those many years ago and through each incredible, incredible year…thank YOU, Zander!
Zander Greene with the Faire Emblem, picture by Alisaundra Andel.
I’m a radio rat.
When I started working in the medium – and this was shortly after dinosaurs ruled the Earth – there was no internet, no multi-track digital editing. Remote interviews? Yes, we could do that. But only if we could get the person being interviewed into a studio with ISDN lines which cost thousands of dollars. Otherwise, it was a phone interview, and usually the connection was so bad it would have made Alexander Graham Bell and Guglielmo Marconi say, “Wow, that sounds like crap.”
I was still working in radio when all that began to change. “Here comes the digital revolution!”, cried those with their eyes on the future.
“Harrumph!”, replied most of the old-timers like me, who slipped their grease pencils, splice tape and razor blades into a box in their desks for safe keeping. “This…
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