That's your pop culty tidbit this week before I get heavy again. Lynda used to nail me on that, clever woman that she was. Wait. I guess I should say "girl," since she now says I knew the girl and not the woman. Fair enough. She knew the boy. And the son is the father of the man -- whatever that means.

But back to Lynda. One of her many funny (delightful) traits was to tease me about how serious I am about everything. I still am. But, when faced with my ultra-seriousness, she would sing: "Nobody knows..." from the old spiritual and make me laugh. An adroit pin-prick into my intellectual bubble. Elhamdu'Allah.

The one thing I regret, as we approach the twelfth year of this long enterprise of mine, is that few (very few) of you have been able to see Rod in love. I'm a different person then. I'm nowhere near as maundlin or morose. I actually am joyful and playful. I look back on that Rod wistfully.

5 NOVEMBER: That would have been a good essay and reminiscence, I believe, but tonight I'm not in the mood to complete it. I'm tired from my new Day Job, painting and glazing (yes, more manual labor as I continue searching for a "real" job that pays decent money. Wish me luck. My many creditors thank you.)

And we're already over a day late in this edition's launch, since I worked on Saturday, the day I usually try to keep open for most of the heavy lifting around here. So it goes. I'm sure none of you is as concerned with the deadline I've set as I am.

There's great stuff in this week's edition, for you, if not on this particular page.

I've been receiving some disturbing e-mails lately, showing me the things I'm missing. One such was this article by Arianna Huffington, which seques nicely with the Bill Moyers excerpt in this week's RDR by BILL STEVENS. Bill makes a good point. We should be outraged and let our elected officials know so in no uncertain terms.

Meanwhile, that's it from me for now. I'll try to update this page during the week, so ya'll come back.

Be well.


New Orleans - 7 NOVEMBER, 2001 - For those of you who care to read it, and because I ALWAYS KEEP MY PROMISES (Are you listening, Yo?) here is the update of the "Glass House" I couldn't finish by deadline. (Yes, once in a five year span even the Publisher can fail.)

There is a lot to tell you.

Someone told me tonight that you can't live in New Orleans for less than SIX YEARS and be part of the place. EXCUSE ME! That seemed beyond the pale. Most cities --- in what I've come to know as "Civilization" --- only demand six months for you to get the lay of the land. I lived in Belgrade for less than six weeks and have been yearning to return as soon as I can.

But that's me.

While I am a lover of cities, as Loyal Readers know from my reminiscences about New York, London, Florence, Cairo, Belgrade, Austin, Denver, San Francisco, and so on, I don't cut them anymore slack than I do myself. Six years is untenable.

The Butterfly Soul Tonight

Three days is a lifetime on this medium. I'd hate to see us considered a ghost site, and Lord knows I hate losing the traffic for the fabulous team of writers I've assembled here. G21, after all, is all about the writers you find here every week. (PLEASE tell me you knew that.)

The GOOD NEWS is that I have finally found an honorable boss here in The Big Easy. He let's me do my manual labor and pays me what he says he will without complain. He appreciates my punctuality and reliability. He accepts the fact that I am aggressively seeking another online job that will use my natural skills in this medium, while telling me that I can work for him for as long as I live here.

Predictably enough, he's an Irishman who has only lived here in the States for ten years. He appreciates the fact that my work is based on craftmanship, whether for him or myself. A fellow worker commented today, "Steve gives you the detailed jobs. The ones that require patience."

That's the part of me that Loyal Readers here, and former lovers, best understand. For deadlines, I have no patience. For a detailed job, for craftmanship, I have the patience of the biblical Job.

My brother, Leon, would laugh that my manual labor jobs are about renovating houses. I don't think he could imagine me as a skilled and lauded construction worker, but that is a part of my life that he has never known. You've heard the stories about my family already, and how they don't really know me.

But, then again, who really does?

I have been a chameleon for so long that I'm surprised I know myself.

I never stay anywhere long enough for people to know me... Not since the divorce. And then the only person who knew me was my future ex-wife.

There is a woman here in Nawlins who everyone else (EXCEPT YOU ROD!) seems to be kind of sweet on me. See makes it a point to say hello whenever she sees me. She's come over to the crib and talked a couple of times.

I'm friendly, but (typically) aloof. You see I'm not sure I'm ready for anyone else in my life right now. I have a hard enough time taking care of just me. And I'm deep in debt to all of my friends, who supported my last wild hejira to Serbia. And I'm broker than dirt. And I'm afraid of what we commonly call "Love," as in a personal relationship.

That's part of the reason for long enforced celibacy. I used to blame it on my idea of being a Literary Priest. But I know it's gone beyond that now. (I no longer pretend that I'll be a novelist instead of an editor and journalist.)

I was telling Steve, my boss, that while I know that sanding and painting should give me the free time to think about personal things like my goals, my life, all I do is focus on "Gee! It's easier to sand down exterior rather than interior paint."

I think only about what is directly in front of me.

I still think like a child.

I asked myself today, during my one cigarette break, smoking an American Spirit non-filter, what my goal is. You can't imagine how many honest answers I came up with. The only answer that mattered was to find "Home."

THINGS I CHAFE OVER THIS WEEK

Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appears both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.

Rod lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, right now. The new home of the magazine. But he plans to return to Serbia next year.

He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.

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