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August 14, 2004

<< It's Raining Brains | Short Schrift >>

And We're Off...

Robin and I ship out tomorrow to our respective stops in California (I’m going straight to Fresno; he’s making a week-long stop-off in Michigan before heading to Sacto). So Snarkmarket, a little dusty and unused these past couple weeks while we’ve been making our preparations to move, will continue to gather dust for a week or so more. I know it will be difficult for you to bear the continuing wait. But next time you hear from us, it’ll be from Californ-eye-ay. And we’ll be back with a vengeance. Promise.

Posted August 14, 2004 at 10:24 | Comments (7) | Permasnark
File under: Gleeful Miscellany


Boy have you guys had an exciting send-off! The good news: we survived our "evacuation" to Orlando (what was I thinking?!). The bad news: our house in Safety Harbor is off the market (before signing the contract, the sellers had a change of heart -- we think they were planning to move to a mobile home park!). Can't wait to hear how you guys are doing once you arrive in the land of ... whatever :)

Belated snark is better than no snark at all. Bon voyage.

Posted by: Tim on August 16, 2004 at 12:32 AM

BTW, Snarkfans, this place is going to get totally overrun by spam in our absence. We'll clean up when we get home, though.

Posted by: Robin on August 16, 2004 at 08:33 PM

And by "home" I mean, of course, back online w/ reliable Snarkmarket access. That's kinda weird that I thought about it that way, isn't it?

Posted by: Robin on August 16, 2004 at 08:34 PM

It's a cliche, but its true:
Home is where the snark is.

Posted by: Dan on August 16, 2004 at 10:26 PM

A little dimestore Heidegger: "home" is where we're "plugged in," meaning surrounded by familiar, meaningful objects by means of which we can interact with the rest of the world. Ever since the telephone, if not before, our "world" is less our immediate environment than it is the totality of reference, the imagined space and practical connections that constitute our meaningful frames of action.

I remember once when I lived in Chicago, the power went out at 2 AM while I was typing a term paper. Plunged into complete darkness and silence, I felt thrown into the gaping maw of the nineteenth century. I took a book (Louis Menand's _The Metaphysical Club_) and wandered the blocks. Finally I found a building with an outdoor gas lamp, and sat on the stoop, reading and watching the quiet streets, until a crane rolled down the street to fix the transformer and fill 55th St with light.

The city never seemed so strange, or so oddly beautiful.

Posted by: Tim on August 17, 2004 at 11:17 PM


Could non-Poynter emails be provided for you young gentlemen? I have things of an Interweb nature I would like to chat about once your dust has settled.

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