I’m working on a couple more substantial bits, but like Betty, life is full today (and for the next…well, forever). So here’s another bit of candy with which to tide you over ’til supper:
Thought of our blogfather when I listened to the cut this morning — given his love of great rock, I’m not sure how he’d take this version. But boy, can Rodrigo y Gabriela make some noise!
That is to say: I won’t wish John good luck. I don’t want luck to have anything to do with it. Good care, the help he needs from professionals and his circle of family, friends and pets, that’s what I want for him.
I don’t know if I’ve ever discussed this — but John is (a) someone I’ve never met and with whom I’ve had only the most minimal email contact and (b) an utterly straightforward, no fuck around leader/creator. The limit of his advice/rule-making at least as I’ve experienced it was the dictum that I should size any art I wanted to use to no more than 480 dots wide. Done and done. After that, I think I got one note pointing out an error, another to complimented me on my correction…and in some years of graciously allowing me into his blog-home, that’s it. It’s been a simple charge: Don’t fuck up. If you do, clean it up. Other than that, have at it.
There is an inscription (actually two!) in St. Paul’s in London honoring its architect, Christopher Wren. It reads (in part, and in translation) “if you seek his monument, look around you.” I strongly suspect the monuments John most values could be found around his own home…but this is one too, and damn fine it is at that. I look forward to his return at the time that is right for him, in health, and when he’s fully ready to lay waste to the supply of idiocy I am absolutely sure will still be abundant whenever he’s ready to deal with it.
In other words: get well as soon as you can, blogfather.
PS, given the absences here that have been piling up, I’m going to try to show up a little more than I’d planned to over the next few months. I’ll see if I can do my part to keep the argument, or at least the pointing-and-laughing-’cause-we’re-too-big-to-cry going. See you ’round the campfire.
Oh yeah — open, this is, a thread.