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Add one part satire to two parts sincerity. Sprinkle on a couple of rants. Stir liberally.
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Daily Blah FAQ
Who are you?
I'm the newly-appointed Future editor at Business 2.0 and the former San Francisco correspondent for Time Magazine.
Wow, so does this mean everything you write reflects Time Inc's opinion? Or do you perhaps have some sort of standard disclaimer to the effect that it doesn't?
Naturally, the opinions contained in this blog are not those of my employers. In fact, some opinions may be the polar opposite of my employers. Some may be the same, for all I know. Hey, it's not like I ask my employers their opinions about everything in the news, okay? Let's just say that if this were a Venn diagram with one circle marked "my opinions" and the other one marked "my employers' opinions", there would doubtless be some overlap. But neither I nor my employers are able to pinpoint exactly where that overlap is.
What is this Daily Blah thing?
An experiment for a column I wrote about blogging back in December 2001. All these years later, I haven't been able to kick the habit.
If it's called Daily Blah, how come you don't ... hey, wait, you're writing every day!
See? Told you I'd try harder.
Mister, you talk funny. Are you one of them furrners?
Why yes I am, as it happens. I was born, raised and educated in Great Britain. I've been living in the U.S. since 1996 and identify as British.
I say, old chap, you forgot the "u" in "colour."
No I didn't. I may identify as British, but I am also an American journalist writing for an American audience about mostly American issues. These two different sides of me are a constant source of tension. Nevertheless, Daily Blah will adhere to American English grammar and spelling.
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Daily Blah for... Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Home Again, For the First Time
They invented the word "discombobulated" for moments like this. It is, of course, a tautology. Have you ever met anyone who described themselves as "combobulated?" My theory is we're all discombobulated -- some more than others.
Excuse me while I spray quotation marks liberally through the following paragraph. The discombobulation moment in question involves flying "home", which is 6,000 from my "home country," where I spent two of the past three weeks. This "home", however, is a place I have never lived in before, and right now, filled as it is with packing materials, feels less like "home" than my "home country". On the other hand, it is a more naturally "homely" place than the "home" I left across town, and moving in with P. makes it even more so (cf. earlier entry about home being other people). Yet she isn't exactly combobulated either, having entered an equally unfamiliar "home" with most of of her possessions stuck in yet another "home" across town. The enormity and surreality of the whole moving-in-together thing is just starting to hit us.
We were both pretty damn jet-lagged when we flew in on Sunday afternoon. I went to bed at 6pm yesterday, slept the clock round, and I'm still tired. There's little food in the fridge apart from milk, a bag of peas and a box of chocolate liqueurs, and finding a piece of cutlery in this mess is a major victory. I still haven't found my Netgear router, so we're using (some might say leeching) some kindly neighbor's wi-fi for most of our Internet access. Which neighbor, we don't yet know, but all I can say is hooray for Noe Valley -- where they don't lock their doors or password protect their wi-fi networks.
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