Thursday, August 12, 2010
Good afternoon, Askers, and I apologize for all the bojanglement regarding reviews. Today we have a guest reviewer. She likes dogs. You've met her before. I would write reviews myself, but I have this other thing going on right now, one that I get paid to do. Shit's goin' down and I'm throwin' punches. So languid, leisurely Ellie is helping me out, because I love her.
Oh, look, one of these slick, new templates with a background image over which the words will roll onto a translucent scroll! And when you page-down, it's like watching a freaky, hallucinogenic 1970s flick. Cool. (Maybe?)
That's my first impression. I think maybe this translucent template feature is cool. Then I'm drawn to the tagline, which is unusual because generally I overlook taglines . . .
usually just daft cliches anyway.
But the opening gambit on this one catches me. "Gus: What's your dental plan?"
This might be good.
But the background image turns a lighter shade of pale grey just where the tagline, with its light-coloured font, would continue. It's impossible to read more without squinting, and I'm too old for this shit. Squinting unnecessarily when you're my age is just asking for trouble.
So, I stop squinting and scroll down.
This is the website I'm going to review.
I have what might be a pang of remorse.
Did I accept this invitation to review too impulsively? It takes so much time to properly review someone's internet baby.
I wonder if I even know what doing it "properly" means. I felt so unseasoned my first go-arounds. I don't think I used my natural voice or developed a new, more interesting one. I just modelled myself off previous reviews. This time I decide to be me, without tricks or sexual innuendo or some seemingly non-related start that ends up somehow being related. I don't know if I know how to do it properly. I do know, though, that it takes time.
Where will I find the time?
I realise I have been scrolling over the first post* which is nothing but a collection of a few pretty photos of leaves. I continue scrolling downwards. The next post is a photo of some gun-selling super mall in the United States of America.
The third post is a grainy photo of of one of "Calcutta's compensations," a lake or wide river in the early morning or early evening. .
The fourth post starts off in the same vein: a photo of a couple of pretty, young girls caught in a charming, candid moment. I get excited by the prospect that I won't have to read any posts.
There aren't any words on this blog! This is a picture blog!
My exuberance is only tempered by a niggle about The Rules.
Are they going to expect me to write something about her blog not having any words? Will I have to make that clear? And if so, is that a bad thing? Will I be expected to do a proper review even though this isn't a proper blog? It's a picture blog! It's like the The Very Hungry Caterpillar of blogs! You can't say anything bad about The Very Hungry Caterpillar!
I switch over to AAYSR.
Surely, they will give me direction.
Even having thought it, I don't quite to expect it: to find a rulebook. But I do find one. I read the rules, all 7 of them. I'm a bit disappointed: the rules are directed at the reviewees. Where's my guidance?
God damn it, this isn't going to help me.
I flip back to the blog in question. I scroll through 3 pages of predominantly pictures. I ignore an experimental poem.
Just an anomaly.
Just as I lose myself in relief that I won't have to read to review this blog (February, 2010) Anandi pulls the rug out from under my feet by posting a word-packed review of Pygmalian.
What the fuck?
Right then and there, in February 2010, I decide what I'm going to give her.
Anandi, go fuck yourself. For breaking 5 of the 7 rules. For boring me shitless with your review of Pygmalian. For making me read a sampling of very bland posts after you promised so much in just pretty pictures.
*at the time of writing