I’ve been thinking about some of my experiences in the local Sacramento community of bloggers. Much of that has been really positive, such as the kind words and friendship I’ve received from John and Maya.

Of course, leave it to my psychotic heart of hearts to focus on the snubs, disappointments, and experiences that were less than warm and fuzzy.

At minimum, there’s a certain disconnect between those of us who blog in connection with a commercial enterprise and those of us who have the dedication and the past-five-o’clock awakeness to do it for fun. I recently wrote to a fellow who runs one of our local blog directories, Sacramento Top Yada Yada. He was a nice enough guy, and it’s his directory, after all, so he can do whatever the heck he wants. We discussed that my commercial blog was excluded unlike some other commercial sites like Xenophilia’s, which is a rock band whose site has booking information. What I came away with was that a wide latitude is given to “people and culture”, and Xenophilia is so much more than a rock band.

Well, sure they are. For example, as far as I can tell they’re the premier Internet resource for information on how to take a picture of your finger and make it look like someone’s butt.

Clearly, then, I’m outside of the Sacramento people and culture mainstream. Even though I’ve come a long way from my first few hungry days in the business, I’m as yet too concerned with my image to publish any real haute couture stuff about transforming one body part into another.

See, I’m such a lowly commercial blogger that I would have thought couture in that sense means “culture”. It turns out it means sewing.

Ich bin eine Philistine.

Less charitably, one might imagine me in my checkered sportcoat and white shoes. “Get your houses here. Get your red hot houses here.”

“You know how those salesmen are.” The trick to saying that sentence correctly is to screw the face into an ever increasing paroxysm of disdain as one approaches the word “salesman”. Don’t forget to follow up with a post about how to tape grape to your head and make it look like a body part, to flaunt your postmodern credentials.

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