We interrupt our regular programming…

… for this news bulletin: my blog is Feedster’s feed of the day today! I’m amazed — and readers who stop by regularly or occasionally should know that it’s all because of my husband that I started blogging at all. (His field is in tech, and he read about the Harvard blogs project on Dave Winer’s Scripting.) So, thank you Werner, and thanks also to readers, lurkers, commenters, other writer-bloggers, and anyone who has gotten anything of value from what I write here. And thanks to Feedster, too. The “feed” thing has been on my mind lately. Some days I really identify with Travis Bickle, with his sad sack self, and I especially flash back to the scene where he quotes a joke that plays on the disorganisation of those who wish to get organised. The quote has to do with garbling the word “organised,” which ends up with additional unnecessary syllables to sound something like “orgaminised.” That’s me, that’s what I’ve been struggling with: too many attempts to get organised are turning into the background for burlesque, not to mention a background for the noise of added syllables. But just as the additional syllables were necessary to make Travis’s joke work, the additional noise probably serves a purpose. Beats me what it might be, but meanwhile, I’ll strive on diligently in my quest to get orgaminised. And perhaps it entails learning about feeds and feed readers. Gulp. Tech-phobia time…. I hope it doesn’t amount to insider trading if I say that the divine Betsy Devine now works for Feedster (she sent me the official email announcement) and that it was her blog’s comments board that started my involvement with the interesting folks who make up a significant chunk of my virtual universe. It was her post on Wacky unrequired reading which started me on a rant in her comments board that day on my economic theory of postmodernism, which in turn started a dialogue with Frank Paynter, which got me reading Shelley Powers, Chris Locke, and so many others that I now have this Taxi Driver problem: the meter is running overtime and the fare is deranged! So many others, so many good reads out there. The party keeps getting bigger, too. The taxi is at least a bus. Hell, it’s a train. A train with lots of wagons, and engines that could. More later, I wasn’t going to blog today at all. But I couldn’t let this special feed-of-the-day lead to an empty plate. On this blog train, the dining car is a movable feast.