Inedible Ink

I do sound just like Barry White, to  me, inside my own head.  Scientific American explains why you can’t hear it too.

When you speak, sound energy spreads in the air around you and reaches your cochlea through your external ear by air conduction. Sound also travels from your vocal cords and other structures directly to the cochlea, but the mechanical properties of your head enhance its deeper, lower-frequency vibrations.

via Why does my voice sound so different when it is recorded and played back?: Scientific American.

… and it’s not writers block.

There are two serious problems with blogging, no matter what you write.

1.)  Nobody reads what you write.

2.) Somebody might read what you write.

The title of this blog, “Inedible Ink”, means (to me) that I do not write authoritatively.  I can observe, comment, note, and joke, but when it comes to the brass tacks issues in this life you shouldn’t be leaning too heavily on me.

I’ve simply found myself in a no man’s land between what I care about, and what I’m willing to write for the unfiltered public to read.  I’ve been unwilling to press the ‘publish’ button for the last  few months.

When I’m joking and a random visitor mistakes my meaning because I have presumed too much of the reader, well, that’s troubling to me.

Please bear with me as I figure out when to press publish and when to hold my tongue.

This is the best single sentence I wrote all day yesterday, I thought I ought to save it for posterity:

“Hope autodefenestrates.”

You might enjoy knowing that it was written on a “problem ticket” a document that reports technical issues.

There’s a new link over on the sidebar:

Google Reader-Captoe’s shared items
You might recall the stream of broken links that used to be over there. It takes automation to err en masse like that.

The idea is to keep some of the “Hey Look - A Duct Tape Wallet!”, or whatever, blogging, off to the side.

I heart New York so much that this blog is seriously considering the establishment of a “Home Office” upstate. What more could a Slime Mold with Delusions of Phosphorescence possibly want from life but a home office upstate?

Can’t do Oneonta, Letterman already did that. I couldn’t bear looking like a Letterman copy-cat. No, we need someplace that’s less metropolitan and chic than Oneonta.

Groucho Marx Quotes

Please accept my resignation. I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.
- Groucho Marx

I admit that I know how he felt. Those things that seem to be most worth writing, and publishing, for that is what this blog is, are often beyond what I feel I have to offer as a writer. At least that’s what my inner-editor tells me.

I was just doing a little harmless checking up on what folks are writing about Inedible Ink.

Seems that, mostly, they can’t spell “indelible.”

We’ve been mascotless here at Inedible Ink for the nearly two years since the Great Native Persons Team Names debacle of mid 2005 where the prior mascot was sent packing without so much as a severance package. You, dear reader, don’t seem to have noticed. Your persistent non-noticing has already led to cuts in the athletics department’s budget and what we referred to euphemistically as a “reshuffling” of the editorial and kitchen staffs. While that seems to have worked out for the best, with less damage caused by errant golf balls, and the spelling in the cafe is perfect, it must be admitted that no blog can shrink it’s way to greatness.

For your consideration, I propose the STANLEY 85-610 Max Grip Locking Adjustable Wrench as a possible mascot.

Stanley calls it two tools in one. Drivel. Those idiots have obviously never driven a nail with one. How about a ten-inch-wrench-pliers-emergency-escape-hammer- paperweight -compass-and-self-defense-calipers?

Our previous mascot was truly superior to this one in every way, but consider the possibilities: A tool buyer at the ‘Depot wrinkles his brow and thinks “What is that?” That is us. Rummaging through a toolbox in need of a wrench you find this thing and think that you’d use it if you knew how, that should remind you of this blog. Your two most favored tools, a vise grips and an adjustable wrench, made confusing and irrelevant by careless combination. That’s us. Your kids will leave it on the lawn for a winter. That’s us. It’s filed under both “Home” and “Hardware”. That’s us. In a battle with the riding mower this tool will leap out of the grass to ruin the blade and fly into traffic doing a passing $450 station wagon $449 dollars of body and radiator damage, it will die brilliantly. That last bit might not be us, but we are a glint of metal in the deep grass.

Am I the only guy here who’s ever turned a nut with a pliers?

Let me know what you think.

… for my own good.

The blog’s name is “Inedible Ink.” Ink which cannot be eaten. Words which do not sustain life. But folks just can’t seem to write those two words side by side, it always comes out Indelible Ink. I can’t blame them, what a silly name.
If I ever create a site that is entirely scripture and authoritative, I’ll call that site Indelible Ink. Until then, please, Inedible Ink.

This is truly dismal.

Comments left by spammers will outnumber real human visits to this blog, probably before the end of the week.
These are unfair comparisons, a spammer is like an orc at Helm’s Deep. You, dear reader, are worth fifty of them.