The Paradoxes of Mr. Pond is an award-winning blog. Of a sort.
It’s green. And seems to contain a subliminal reference to sushi. I’ll take it!
It’s a conditional award, I should add. In fact, it’s a circular award, in that you’re supposed to forward it to fifteen friends. And say seven interesting things about yourself on your blog. Though Jenna has graciously allowed recipients of the award to bow out of its circularity.
This is rather different than anything I’ve done at Paradoxes, but I don’t feel it untoward or an undue challenge. Like Mrs. Bates before me, as soon as I open my mouth I shall say three very dull things indeed, so I only need to do that twice and then think of one more thing. So here, after a fashion, goes.
- I applaud this courageous post by my friend and colleague Erzebet Carr. It reflects on many levels my own approach to social media and the internet. And explains to some degree the nature of six-very-dull plus one-haphazard items in this list.
- It’s been several years since I wrote a list like this (see 1). This list is more interesting (see 4).
- I’m planning something I can’t tell you about yet with my friend the T.S. Eliot scholar, whose existence John Granger has had occasion to doubt. The something we’re planning might have something to do with the Holy Grail, but I can’t tell you. (You’re free to guess.)
- I had the misfortune of splitting my swordmaster’s eyebrow on the second week, but then he did tell me to try to hit him. It’s amazing how counterintuitive that is.
- I’ve never fallen off a horse but I have fallen off a bicycle. Which is the main reason I’m a distance runner.
- My first short story was called ‘Three Bears on a Bike and So Many, So Many, So Many Radios.’ It was dictated to my mother, and featured a cameo from The Avocado Baby. He picked up a house at a crucial point in the story, as I recall. It may be the only occurrence in my writings of infante ex machina.
- A novel I’m occasionally proofreading has taught me the two most pedantic facts known to mankind. They were kindly provided courtesy of my friend the T.S. Eliot scholar (see 3).
I might pass them on to you if you ask nicely enough. No, they’re not about T.S. Eliot’s typewriter, or the original shipping cost for the book of Romans. Sorry.
If you read this blog, I like you. You can take the award home and write your own list, if you don’t already have one (award or list). But I’m not going to perpetuate it any further, I’m afraid. (See 1.)
And now my list is done, and there goes a little mouse running down the clock. Anyone who catches it can make himself a nice fur cap.