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Hi everyone, it’s Cindy, guest-blogging for Karl as the Summer of Love ‘08 draws to a close. I’ve known Karl since visiting his home page (’member those?) in early 1996 and leaving a comment about our shared love for C.D. Payne’s Youth in Revolt (sort of an Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret for horny teenage boys.)

Karl is nothing if not fastidious about replying to comments, so he wrote back… then I wrote back… then he wrote back… and the next thing I knew, I was crushing on him. Hell, I once sent him a rare 1991 Canadian 5-track cassette tape that was independently issued by the Barenaked Ladies themselves.

I got a couple of mix CDs worthy of Nick Hornby in reply, but let’s face it: this was 1996. People just didn’t up and fly halfway across the continent to meet someone they met on the Internet. I mean, for all we knew, we were both hairy prison inmates just masquerading as geeks.

There is something intoxicating about corresponding with someone you know you’ll never meet in person. You can say anything, be absolutely yourself. Because you’ll never, ever meet them. (Here’s a secret though: if Karl had asked me to come to Dallas in 1996 - I would have. I was too shy to ask him to come visit me. I blame this on my Catholic upbringing.) Boats were missed.

So we kept e-mailing - little notes about our lives, comments about books or movies or TV shows we’d enjoyed. At one point we even collected the first year or so of our e-mails into the manuscript of a novel we’d tentatively titled Virtually Yours. I give us full marks for creativity here - this was before anyone else had done an all-email novel. (I was hoping Meg Ryan would play me in the movie.) But alas, in addition to being geeks, we are also slackers, so the novel languishes - literally - in a drawer. And anyway, the ending needs work. Who wants to read a novel about two Internet friends who not only never get it on, but never even share the same time zone?

Then we met.

Five years after replying to my note on his home page, Karl flew to Nova Scotia to visit us for a week. (I say us, because by this point, I was living with my fabulous better half - the sort of man, who, when his girlfriend says, “Honey, I’d like to have the Internet friend I crushed on but have never met, who - it’s an infinitesimal possibility, but still needs mentioning in the interests of full disclosure - could possibly be a hairy prison inmate - come stay with us for a week,” he replies, “Sure!”)

There was karaoke, more than a few pints of beer, the hangover to end all hangovers (mine - Karl never suffers ill effects of liquor, dammit), pumpkin people, and a late night cigarette run that will go down in infamy. In short, we had a blast.

And then we didn’t see each other for another six years.

Karl’s second visit in the summer of 2007 prompted Black Belt Mama to make a wicked video to the tune of Before He (Karl) Cheats. The second visit involved even more beer, a crazy fun barbeque, whales, Paradise (Nova Scotia), a molested turtle, and a forced march (sorry, Karl!) through one of Nova Scotia’s most beautiful parks. And the evidence, in the form of twenty-seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was - is all on Flickr.

What surprised me then and now is how real and enduring our friendship is. Before we met, I wondered whether it would translate in real life - maybe it would be some sort of friendship lite, certainly not like the kind of friendships that have years of shared history - of pub shenanigans, hanging out in coffee shops on Sunday afternoons, walks and adventures and in-jokes and hugs when life just plain sucks. But you know what? It is.

So Karl, buddy - this winter, when it’s dark by 5:30p.m. and the wind howls at the windows, and all of the fluffy movie snow grows dirty and disappears, only to be replaced with icy sheeting rain - I’m coming to Florida. Because, really, what are friends for?

Much love, my dear - thanksfor the spot on your Summer of Love roster.

Here’s the novel that started it:

Wednesday, July 18 - My name is Nick. Someday, if I grow up to become a gangster, perhaps I will be known as Nick the Prick. This may cause some embarrassment for my family, but when your don gives you your mafia sobriquet you don’t ask questions.

I am 14 years old (nearly) and live in Oakland, a large torpid city across the bay from San Francisco. I am writing this in the tenuous privacy of my bedroom on my annoyingly obsolete AT clone. My friend Lefty gave me a bootleg copy of WordPerfect, so I’m doing some writing to try and learn the command codes. My ambition is someday to be able to move entire paragraphs in a single bound.

My last name, which I loathe, is Twisp. Even John Wayne on a horse would look effeminate pronouncing that name. As soon as I turn 21 I’m going to jettison it for something a bit more macho. Right now, I’m leaning toward Dillinger. “Nick Dillinger.” I think that strikes just the right note of hirsute virility.

Wikipedia and IMDB both report that a Youth in Revolt movie is in production and set for UK release in April 2009, with Michael Cera starring as Nick Twisp (a stroke of casting brilliance, IMHO). You can visit C.D. Payne’s website at www.nicktwisp.com.

And for the record? No, Karl and I have never gotten it on.

Karl here.

Thanks, Cindy. Great post. I’m sure everyone can see why we’ve been friends for so long and instantly hit it off.

Don’t forget, gang. Thursday night at 10pm Eastern, it’s another episode of SecondHand Radio. My guest tonight will be John from Buddha on the Road.

Please tune in and tell your friends!

Filed under Books, Guest Post, Music, Travel | Comments (2)

I want to say big thanks to both Avitable for Saturday’s guest post and Jan for yesterday’s post. Avitable actually got me in a little trouble. Nothing major, of course, and thanks to one of my very graphic sex posts in April, I was prepared for such a contingency. I just need to remember on those rare occasions that someone decides to photoshop my head onto a guy getting fucked in the ass that I should remove the advertisements from that particular post.

Thanks to all of you for your support on me falling off the quitting wagon. I’ll be getting back on soon. Haven’t figured out when. I’m fucking stressed to the gills right now. I know, I know. No excuse. I know the stats. Most all smokers fail their first time quitting. I don’t feel good about it, but I’m proud as hell of Britt and guarantee you I won’t be smoking when I next see her. Which will be soon.

I’m loving the Famecrawler gig. It’s a great job and I get to show a side that I don’t often show here. The snarky ass bitchy side. OK, maybe I DO show it here often. Still, it’s not every day that I get called a misogynist like I did over at FC the other day. I really feel like I’ve made it now that I’ve gotten some negative comments.

I used the word “douchebaggery” in a headline and someone called me on it. Said that was dissing women because douches are feminine hygiene products, used to clean vaginas (who knew?) and they were NOT to be used in a negative way like that. Funny thing is, she misspelled misogynist. Heh. I may be a douchebag, but at least I know how to spell.

Then last night I got a little comment saying I took a cheap shot at Kim Kardashian for calling her a slut. It was a cheap shot. Doesn’t make it any less true, though. Not that there’s anything wrong with sluts, mind you. I just wouldn’t want my daughters acting like Kim Kardashian. Does that make me insane? I don’t think so.

So I’m firmly entrenched over there now, all snarks ahead. But I’m tired. Still learning the ropes, trying to get into a groove, maximize my time, all that shit. I was up until 5 in the morning last night. And here it is, 1:40 in the morning now.

By the way, if you happen to subscribe to the Famecrawler blog, I’d really appreciate it if you’d Digg on my stories. And Propel them. Whatever your favorite submission sites might be. The more hits I get on my stories, the better it is for me in my pocket.

Don’t forget, Thursday night is another episode of SecondHand Radio and I hope you’ll join me. I don’t quite know who my guest is because I lost track of days and forgot to line someone up. But I’ve got a few emails out and hope to hear later today. Keep your eyes on Twitter. Show time is 10pm Eastern Thursday night.

I totally forgot that Monday was my THREE YEAR BLOGIVERSARY! Go me.

And I’m late in announcing this, but there’s this calendar coming out called the Hot Blogger Calendar. It’d be awesome if you’d vote for me.

Doesn’t take long. I really think I should be on a calendar, don’t you? Especially THIS one.

And yeah, this is the final week of The Summer of Love. Only two more guest posts left. Tomorrow it’s my good friend, Cindy, who I’ve known longer than any other Internet friend. Saturday, it’s Winter. Then I’m back to the seven-day grind.

Filed under 2HT Radio, Blogging, Depression, Famecrawler, Local Goings On, Weblogs, quitting smoking | Comments (21)

This is my submission for Karl’s Summer of Love. I’m one of Karl’s roommates from TequilaCon and usually hang my hat over at Time Czar. Hope you enjoy it!

Every time we make eye contact, he blushes. I feel hot all over. We play with the eye contact and he burns through me. I watch him looking me over. My thoughts wander to what I think he wants… I know he wants. His mouth quivers.

“Pass the salt?” he says.

I like it when things are ambiguous. It’s kind of auto-erotic, isn’t it? Why be rejected by someone when you can neurotically assume in your head that they are into you? You can go home and be inside your own head with your assumptions.

I have a little crush right now. I’m sure that he is either at home with a tissue box or completely oblivious and that there is no gray area in between. Well, actually, I know what he’s doing: he’s home with a box of tissues because we are all doing that. Every one of us. He might be thinking about me, but that’s none of my business.

See, in my life there is sexuality and there is friendship. I like it when the two intersect. I do NOT like it when the subject of RELATIONSHIP comes up because it usually means that the RELATIONSHIP is actually OVER. If you are in a healthy relationship you are living it, not talking about it. People in healthy relationships have too many things to talk about, such as their unhealthy relationships with other people. When the talk starts I get a feeling in my stomach that might be what people with ulcers feel like.

The best relationships are the ones where people don’t get too into the discourse of why it is or isn’t working because they are too busy having sex, having fun, or having fun having sex. So, yeah, it’s WAY easier to do this in your head, unless you are Karl and reject yourself while trying to whack off in the presence of two unsuspecting female bloggers while drunk in a hotel at Tequila Con. In your head you can be with anyone.

I think the next time I get into a “we need to talk,” conversation, I am going to say, “Ok, but only if we do it naked,” and proceed to take all of my clothes off. Not sure it will work, but what the heck. And if not, hey, I can’t reject myself. And according to me I’m pretty damn good in bed.

Filed under Guest Post | Comments (13)