. . . and miles to go

My 1999 Ford Contour turned 100,000 miles yesterday. (Turned. Is that the term?) I was disappointed to have discovered this milestone event after the fact, 4 miles after the fact. Thinking back, the landmark moment would have been while I was on the highway, so it would have been risky to stop on the interstate and mark the occasion. I am not sure why it matters. I have with other cars pulled over and paused to celebrate or otherwise observe the event. I'd say, "Kids, wow, look at all those nines become zeros! Cool!" (They'd feign interest, or not, and continue with their electronic game or reading or music listening or dazing out the window.) Or with yet other vehicles I'd set off firecrackers, hire strippers, and shake Pepsi bottles as faux champagne for the gala numerical bonanza.

Yes, one is wise to ask why it matters at all to me. Why should one configuration of digits matter more than any other?

Of course, carried to its logical extenson, that question would also apply to birthdays, anniversaries, et cetera ad infinitum ad nauseam for just about any human endeavor.

It would be so zen-like to say "This Is This" and be at peace with it, be it the numerical commemoration of birth, death, gain, or loss.

Anyway, I figure it is now less than (fewer than?) 10,000 mles before I encounter the exquisite beauty of 111,111.1 miles showing up on the odometer, assuming both I and the car roll that far.

Age quod agis.

Bloomsday Blogsday 1, and Counting

Today is my first blogiversary. Or is that blogaversary? Maybe it's even a bit of blogslavery, shackled by semantics and the art and craft (and obsession) of saying (saying anything, anything at all, in almost any manner). (Incidentally and fittingly, June 16, is also Bloomsday, the day in 1904 when the fictional events in James Joyce's Ulysses take place, in Dublin.)

It started on a Thursday night and into Friday morning, wandering around the steamy back alleys of the World Wide Web (without the editor's choice of "Worldwide," which would have forever branded us with WW), teasing out the scene not far from Seattle, tempting my tendency toward the tawdry, when I should've been sleeping.

And so, the nom de plume Pawlie Kokonuts was hatched, with hats off to Paulie Walnuts.

The title of The Laughorist was a natural, since I had already started a store revolving around the concept of so-called laughorisms. And my first post, on solipsism, was indicative of a suspicion I harbored, and harvest, for this talking tour.

Looking back, I notice I received no Comments for a week; not until my 11th post (did I care? was I more pure then? less self-conscious?). The first Comment was from the blogger at Kierkegaard Lives. Thank you. (I see, he's still posting; we share similar layouts.) Most likely, I stopped at his blog and teased him into stopping by at my place, with a word or two on Soren Kierkegaard thrown in.

I confess I've not been the perfect blog community member or neighbor. By that, I mean I don't reciprocate Comments faithfully or even read other blogs consistently. And that is because it's hard enough for me just to keep this going, being of meager discipline and possessing little perseverance. Don't take it personally, or impersonally.

Thanks for stopping by. Then and now. I've met all those people you see linked n this page, as well as many others, and more who need to be linked. Or will be. Deo volente.

It's been a journey of linking, connecting, conversing, and cavorting. I've gotten more from all of you than I've put into it. Thank you.


Spotlight on Year 1

One Slice, With Legs

Testing Testosterone

Water You Know

We the People, We the Ephemerists

(which evoked the most Comments).

One easy discovery was, I can't be funny all the time, nor do I want to be (witness several posts on the deaths of loved ones, or on la petite mort, or on the death of deception or illusion).

And who would've guessed that I would get the most hits, so far, owing to my post on the serial comma, with chitchat coming from Vanity Fair and The New Yorker?

Again, thanks to all of you -- first-timers, late-comers, new-comers, toll-takers, big-talkers, and silent-partners (even if all those hyphens aren't truly needed).

Carry on.

Excelsior.

Age quod agis.