Karma Drama

Wow. Thanks, Ann.

I woke up Friday morning, checked my links and found that Ann passed a picture my way. It’s this thing called a Superior Scriber award. It's only given out to "select" blogs.

Here are the rules and Ann’s rationale for nominating this blog:

First, the link to where the Super Scribbler originated:
http://scholastic-scribe.blogspot.com/2008/10/200-this-blings-for-you.html

OK, on to what I have to do:

A: Post award in your journal. (Done)
B: Link back to blogger who nominated you. (Walking Surreal, link to your right. Scroll. She is one of the best writers on our planet. If not THE best. Her blog is visually arresting, as well. She has a talent for photography and an instinct for layout. She's a fucking genius.)
C: Link back to originating post for list of rules. (Ann, plus above crappy graphic)
Then: Give this award to 5 other people that you feel fit the criteria of this award. (Is this going to cost me money? Or make money for someone else?)

In Ann’s words, her sweet nomination of July’s Hazy Motives:

1) My first choice is a given. I'm choosing PK over at July's Hazy Motives http://julyshazymotives.blogspot.com/ He can write. Plain and simple. I found him 4 years ago over at AOL Journals and became glued to his blog. It may not always be politically correct and it may not always make sense. And sometimes it might really piss you off but -you will read- even if you don't want to admit it ... Because he's good.

My response:

Bollocks!

Don't get me wrong. I love Ann. She has pulled me through life and death with the patience of an arc angel. But I'm wondering what the difference is between this "award" and an honest recommendation. I guess the viral nature of the "honor" compels us to make choices.

But in the spirit of Ann’s kindness, I’ll spread it, thoughtfully.

It will be Judy, Joe, Ann, JudithHeartSong, and Mrs. Linkletter. Way too stoned to excavate.

http://backyarddolphin.wordpress.com/
I get emails from Judy every day about the ocean and stray pets. I adore her. We’ve shared the train a few times this year, and this past summer our empathy overlapped big time for the dolphins trapped in our local non-oceanic river. I hold back a tear for each one euthanized for pneumonia. She and her husband, Cliff host the coolest parties in town, by far. (I’m a seasoned reviewer of parties.) Holy shit. I had deja vu again. It happens a lot when I'm discussing a Judy-based topic.

http://thefullcatastrophe.blogspot.com/
Joe could be making double his salary, easy, if he were to work in the City. He's gifted in science and spirit. His talent was evident the moment I met him. We share a lot of the same tastes in music, films and lit, and he is one of the unfortunate few who have endured me as a fucking boss. He's better off without me in the picture.

http://wakingsurreal.blogspot.com/
Ann is probably the only friend I haven't touched. We’re a thousand miles apart physically and next door neighbors spiritually. She's in love. She gave me a first nod. I don't know how to thank her. Maybe we'll meet in the past, sometime.

http://judithheartsong.blogspot.com/
JudithHeartSong is a smooth gift. She is one of the chosen few who are wired to interpret the world for the rest of us. She crept into my consciousness back when I was an AOL blogger. The company I currently work for is a famous benefactor of the arts. Judith, thankfully, creates by its grace, and thus, for all of us. Check her out. Her talent is astounding.

http://mrslinklatersguidetotheuniverse.blogspot.com/
Mrs. Linkletter alighted upon my AOL journal with the sound of an autumn leaf hitting ground. The principals of physics were caught sleeping. Her words got me through a tough time in life. I miss her and she probably has no idea who I am.




Holy shit. I am baked. My TV sounds like a cross between cartoons and cooking shows. I must resist this mysterious inclination to purchase the Flirty Girl Fitness Pole for my living room. Holy fuck. I think me trippin.

I'm not done with this post yet.

Half of the lies they say about me are true.

I am a liar, and I can prove it.

That was a mathematical theorem. Woah.

Theoretically provable, but never really close to the truth.


There is a bleeding shotgun blast with an ugly exit wound in nothing but your own heavy guilt.