Pop on over to BitchBuzz to read my latest column, a mass of absurdity that squeaks a little bit of commentary under the edges:
We all react to adversity in different ways: some stick out their chins and trudge on, heads held high; some fall into penitence and scourging and prayer; some turn to works of kindness for the very least among us.
Most of us, however, whinge and moan and complain to anyone who will listen. Things didn’t used to be like this, we’re sure, everything is so much harder now, I can’t believe there’s not WiFi here!
Read the rest of my paean to the carpet beetle (with a gratuitous mention of Robyn Hitchcock, fellow insect lover) over at BBHQ as always.
Another Facebook phenomenon sparked this. Everything around me can become fodder for my writing, you know, any chance remark or unfortunate event. Be grateful that I usually have to change them; real life seldom makes a good story unless you select and rearrange. This is why you should approach all memoirs with skepticism. Memory is a very unreliable tool.
My dad joined Facebook: I suddenly feel as if my friends and I should all be sitting down with our hands folded. But that won’t last long; I’m too accustomed to being myself.
I refuse to let my mother know where my MySpace page is…it's under an assumed name. It's my refuge away from the serious world and my relatives.
LOL — I can understand that. I'm already kind of "public" with this blog. I am often surprised to find out people who read it that I never expected.With the internet, we're all more public than we realise sometimes. In my Writing for New Media class, we Googled my name (as "Kathryn Laity" not "K. A. Laity" — different results) to see what we would get: we got lots of academic stuff, but we also got phone numbers and addresses, all fortunately long out of date or belonging to other people.
I like the image…hope for the bugs, indeed.This seems as apropos a forum and spot to note that imported foxes, brought in to Australia to eat the proliferation of introduced rabbits, have recently been culled with the major purpose of keeping them from rendering wombats, or at least one species of wombat, extinct.
I have always said you just can't trust those tricksy foxes! Has Reynard taught us nothing?!
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