Hey, Ishbadiddle is in an article on neighborhood blogs in the latest Park Slope Reader, available in fine stores everywhere. Well, not everywhere, but here. PDF version here in case the Community Bookstore is too far away.
The full uncut "interview" is below the fold. Some of it will look familiar.
--How long have you been blogging, and what prompted you to start?
Ishbadiddle originally started in January 2001 as an email list, a way for me and my friends to talk about movies and books and music and stuff. See, my friends know a lot more about pop culture than I do, so instead of pestering them personally for recommendations, I decided to create a Blurb Ponzi. That was the original idea, at least.
In May 2001, at the urging (and with the help) of a friend, I moved Ishbadiddle to the web. Boom! It became a blog. Over time, Ish expanded its scope. More people started sending stuff in to get posted. We started posting memes, those self-propogating ideas that show up in your inbox and won't go away, and various funny links. And we started writing about politics.
And then the unthinkable happened on one beautiful September day.
Ishbadiddle completely changed then. First it became a way to assure each other of our continued existence; then a way to tell our stories; then a way for us to try and make sense of it all. There've been a lot of political arguments -- mostly conducted with civility. I hope that we've shed more light than heat.
So now this is sort of a like a very long cocktail party with my friends, and various others who've found their way here from Google searches or other blogs or what have you. Minus the drinks and the little paper umbrellas.
--Where do you do most of your writing and posting--at home, or in one of the neighborhood's coffee shops, where everyone else seems to do their blog updates?
While I have been known to blog from Tea Lounge, I do most of my blogging from home (after the kids are asleep). I also sometimes blog from work. It's ok, they know I have a blog and everything, and I'm the go-to guy when it comes to dealing with bloggers. [I work at an online philanthropy called DonorsChoose.org] But beware writing about your job -- you can get "dooced," which is blog-slang for getting fired for blogging (named after dooce, the first victim).
--Is there anything about Park Slope that makes it especially conducive for blogging (or, taken from another angle, is there anything about Park Slope's residents that make them especially enthusiastic about blogging?)?
To me, blogging is just writing. It just happens to be writing without an editor, that's instantly published (in reverse chronological order, which makes reading blogs sort of like watching Memento over and over again). So the things that make Park Slope a good place for writers -- namely, lots of coffee and lots of other writers -- make it good for blogging. There are a million stories in the naked city, and most of them are now being blogged.
--What exactly do you hope to accomplish with Ishbadiddle?
An excellent question -- I suppose after five years I should have an actual answer, shouldn't I? Ishbadiddle's tagline is "An occasional report on ephemeral things," and that's all I really aspire to.
--Has keeping a blog strengthened your relationship with your actual, physical community? Has it made you aware of certain things around you in the Slope? (I'm recalling your post about a book you found on your steps--there's something so PS about mentioning that.)
Most of my writing on Ishbadiddle isn't of the "this is what happened to me today" variety, but I still seem to have written plenty about the nabe -- there are 35 posts (out of 4090) that are tagged "Park Slope," you can read them all here. Having a blog is a bit like walking around with a camera -- you start to notice things just because you've got a way to record them. Sometimes I'll see something, or overhear something, and think, "I have to blog about this." Because the stories in Brooklyn are just too
good not to share. Even if no one's reading it, you've written it. That's good for something.
