You know you've been blogging for a long time, possibly even too long, when not only have you told all your best stories on the blog but you have forgotten that you've told them and have begun to tell them again.
Old stories don't die, they just grow in the telling. It was a great story, and I love hearing it again - especially since last time I heard it, you missed out some of the telling details (Iambic pentameter, Tennyson). More power to your blogging.
Yes, TimT, that was indeed the story I had in mind -- well spotted. And did I put in, the first time, the charming detail that the two students in that tute group who "got" poetic form and metre immediately were, respectively, a TAFE lecturer in graphic design and a tutor in the Anatomy department? Both devotees of form and structure, so no surprises there.
Zoe -- heh. So where's yours then? I have been hanging out for your mooted cookery blog ever since you mooted it, and have an abiding, admiring memory of your 'Here we have chicken four ways' post.
"I have been hanging out for your mooted cookery blog ever since you mooted it, and have an abiding, admiring memory of your 'Here we have chicken four ways' post."
Heh. Wait until Zoe recycles the teenage cock story.
Yeah yeah, serves me right. I did look for it, you know, but I obviously didn't look hard enough. You must have actually said where it was back there at Crazybrave and I must have missed it.
I've only been blogging for two years, but trying to do it every day (and mostly succeeding) results in enough posts that it's hard, sometimes, to keep track of what I've said and what I've meant to say but haven't. I often search my blog (and I'm so glad that Blogger puts that easy-peasy "Search" box up there) to see if I've already said what I'm saying.
I write my entries offline (using raw HTML) and then paste them in, and I once wrote a rather long entry about computer security... and then, searching my blog for a related reference, found that I'd actually posted a series of entries that covered it some months earlier.
I was pleased to see that I said about the same thing the second time. It's nasty when you contradict yourself.
I'm sure there are long lists of "You know you've been blogging too long when..." things out there for the searching, but the indication for me is that everything I do and see, I now look at with an eye toward whether it'd make for a good blog entry.
The art in retelling stories is the polish, change and adapt them a bit depending on the look in the audiences' (audience's)eyes or yawns or on ablog I suppose comments.
I just blame the dope from my 20s. I can't even remember the start of a story halfway through telling it, let alone if I've told it before. But I support Tim. Your stories would just grow in charmingness. (heh, a little fingernail on a blackboard for you. I actually heard that word used the other day.)
14 comments:
Old stories don't die, they just grow in the telling. It was a great story, and I love hearing it again - especially since last time I heard it, you missed out some of the telling details (Iambic pentameter, Tennyson). More power to your blogging.
You could always start a cookery blog. Hardly any of those about.
Yes, TimT, that was indeed the story I had in mind -- well spotted. And did I put in, the first time, the charming detail that the two students in that tute group who "got" poetic form and metre immediately were, respectively, a TAFE lecturer in graphic design and a tutor in the Anatomy department? Both devotees of form and structure, so no surprises there.
Zoe -- heh. So where's yours then? I have been hanging out for your mooted cookery blog ever since you mooted it, and have an abiding, admiring memory of your 'Here we have chicken four ways' post.
"I have been hanging out for your mooted cookery blog ever since you mooted it, and have an abiding, admiring memory of your 'Here we have chicken four ways' post."
Heh. Wait until Zoe recycles the teenage cock story.
"lzivoed"
I think you did include those details. If I recall correctly, it was in the course of a discussion about poetic technique over at Sars.
Try clicking my name in that last comment, Pav.
Yeah yeah, serves me right. I did look for it, you know, but I obviously didn't look hard enough. You must have actually said where it was back there at Crazybrave and I must have missed it.
Okay, now I'm going back to have a proper read.
Nah, I hadn't yet - I was hoping to do so today but got Overtaken By Events. (Not dramatic events mind, just ordinary ones).
Now for your trifle post ...
That byrd comment was from me, btw, after my mate hadn't logged out.
*Ticks one more small mystery off list*
I've only been blogging for two years, but trying to do it every day (and mostly succeeding) results in enough posts that it's hard, sometimes, to keep track of what I've said and what I've meant to say but haven't. I often search my blog (and I'm so glad that Blogger puts that easy-peasy "Search" box up there) to see if I've already said what I'm saying.
I write my entries offline (using raw HTML) and then paste them in, and I once wrote a rather long entry about computer security... and then, searching my blog for a related reference, found that I'd actually posted a series of entries that covered it some months earlier.
I was pleased to see that I said about the same thing the second time. It's nasty when you contradict yourself.
I'm sure there are long lists of "You know you've been blogging too long when..." things out there for the searching, but the indication for me is that everything I do and see, I now look at with an eye toward whether it'd make for a good blog entry.
I thought that was just something that happened to you after you turned about 30....(forgetting and telling stories again I mean)
The art in retelling stories is the polish, change and adapt them a bit depending on the look in the audiences' (audience's)eyes or yawns or on ablog I suppose comments.
I just blame the dope from my 20s. I can't even remember the start of a story halfway through telling it, let alone if I've told it before. But I support Tim. Your stories would just grow in charmingness. (heh, a little fingernail on a blackboard for you. I actually heard that word used the other day.)
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