DailyBlah



The increasingly inaccurately-named blog of journalist and futurist Chris Taylor. Either the most sporadically brilliant amateur blog, the most brilliantly amateur sporadic blog, or the most amateur sporadic brilliance on the Web since 2001.


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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.

Do you write any other blogs, by chance? Could that have something to do with the fact that Daily Blah isn't always Daily?

Yes -- the Future Boy blog for Business 2.0. And yes. If you want true, editorially-mandated daily coverage from me, that's probably the best place to look.

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, January 17, 2006

Dream Journal Archives: Space. Eh.
This one happened early during my year at Journalism school, shortly after I'd read the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.

I am a Tom Wolfe-style writer -- maybe I'm even Tom Wolfe -- taking a trip on the Space Shuttle, thinking vaguely of using it for my next novel, picturing the tick-tock, the as-it-happens narrative. And yet I'm still wondering if it'll do as a story for Professor S.

All the elements of the narrative are nicely in place. There's race -- the two crew members are black. There's tension -- one of them, it transpires, is taking me to court over some parking violation back on Earth. I have a phone conversation with my lawyers once I'm up there on how to handle it, and which law-firm to give it to. The other pilot looked drained when we went through the final airlock control, terribly, emotionally drained, and I wonder relentlessly whether we're going to die.

Before countdown, the crew members whispered conspiratorially about "the thing"; how could I possibly write about "the thing?" The thing turns out to be the feeling of insignificance one feels when screaming through the sudden black expanse of the stratosphere. But I don't really feel it -- I just understand it, and write as if I feel it. Now in space, I have to remind myself how lucky I am, how few of my fellows will see this, how privileged they'd want me to feel.


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Snakes on a Plane in Full!
 
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