I know, that's got to be one of the lamest openings I've ever endured, unless you count sex with my ex-wife.
Damn, did I say that out loud? In a public forum? Ah well.
A meme is, in the ordinary parlayance, a little bit of wisdom or knowledge that is passed along from one to another, and more often than not used to denote something like tribal knowledge or wisdom that is passed from one generation to another. It's more modern usage includes the idea that a meme is something used to jog one's memory, a sort of placekeeper or even a starting point for something bigger.
In the blogging world there are dozens (no doubt hundreds) of blogs devoted simply to memes. Each day, or week, or whatever unit of time they're using, they post a meme--a starting point for someone else's blog. It might be a question or series of questions, or it could be a list you have to fill out, it's simply always something to help the writer along.
Me, my meme is the other blogs I read, my morning experiences, everything goes into the big boiling cauldron that is my brain. I feel a lot like Ray Bradbury, who in the beginning of his "Ray Bradbury Presents" television show would be filmed walking into his study, I think he called it his "magician's workshop," which was this little room filled floor to ceiling with THINGS, and his typewriter smack in the middle of it. In real life this was supposedly pretty accurate, and he'd simply draw from what was around him, mix it with his own experience and storytelling ability, and spin out thousands of words of the most beautiful prose I have encountered.
Well, I ain't that good, so don't be looking for no story of dinosaurs and time travel and midnight carnival arrivals.
This morning, however, the blogs were a bit...flat. Nothing leaped out, nothing seized onto my wetly grey and shining brain to devour the very essence...no wait, sorry, I read a post on George A. Romero's upcoming "Land of the Dead," the next installment of the Living Dead series. I love zombies. I love zombies all to pieces.
I got to enjoy Soylent Green last night again, letterboxed no less, I believe it was on AMC, or TCM, one of those wonderful channels. It got me thinking how jaded I've become to certain things, and I don't know if it's overexposure or a mind as open as a saloon door, but whatever it is, I'm not shocked a lot anymore.
Situation: The world is dying, overcrowded, and food is running out.
Solution: Everyone on the dole eats dead people, served under the guise of little green crackers.
My response: "Do we get to choose who we eat?"
Situation: The entire planet is overrun with the living dead.
Solution: Wall off an entire city and live there semi-safely in utter terror.
My response: Bring me my bicycle and my .45, I want to go hunting.
Situation: Some kid wipes out on the highway at 110 mph. Road Rash City.
Solution: Motorcycles are dangerous, so slow down.
My response: He deserved it, riding in a t-shirt and shorts. And why didn't he take any sort of Rider Education?
Situation: Stranger In A Strange Land frankly discusses cannibalism in the future.
Solution: Hide our open-minded behaviour but engage in it anyway.
My response: Do people taste better when they're boiled or fried? And which wine do you serve?
Situation: Can't come up with anything to blog about
Solution: Check out the Daily Meme sites for some inspiration
My response: Write about cannibalism, death, dismemberment, and other sickening things until everyone stops reading this blog and goes away so I can stop writing it.
You know, a little smart-ass goes a long way, especially on toast with some lettuce if the leaves are really crisp and fresh, and some tomatoes sliced reallly thin and just a little mayo. Yum!
Post Blog: Oh, and what's this with West Coast Choppers and Honda getting together on motorcycle design? My sweet stars and garters, Honda, couldn't you have picked a better customiser? That Jesse James guy is such a prat. OCC would have done you a job a thouand times better, more creative, and less...pratish. Even Arlen Ness, had you paid more for him than Polaris and the extraordinarily lame Victory Motorcycle Company, would have produced designs you could have been proud of. Cripes, you could dig up Indian Larry, chop off his head, stick it in a big-ass Erlemeyer flask full of green preservative fluids and shoot a few hundred thousand volts through it, then hire the best telepaths in the world to pick his brain (literally) for ideas and done better than using Jesse James. Big Red, you're letting me down!