I read a lot of OS. I read the good guys and the bad guys. I read the cool kids and nerds. I read the trolls and the whatever non-trolls are called. I read the poetry, the prose, the fiction and the non. I read it all. However, much of my favorite reading time is consumed by the comments.
The comments are usually flattering to the writer and many of those are pretty boring. There are some posts, however, that warrant a single word of exclamation, i.e. “Wow,” or “Awesome.” There are a lot of those.
There are also many posts that extol a particular politically partisan position (alliteration alert) and these often create a huge amount of dialogue. Much of that dialogue is predictable with the majority beating one or two dissenters unmercifully about the head and shoulders. These comments can be fun as long as you’re not the beatee. In this situation, I sometimes feel like a bystander watching the cops club the stuffing out of Rodney King.
While I know that sometimes the comment section of a post may be mundane and that many of you simply quickly scan or just bypass the comments altogether, occasionally hidden deep inside the predictable praise, the oratory or the vitriol lays a gem of a comment waiting to change your whole damn day.
My favorite comments are ones that don’t seem to make any sense to me. As an example, just today, Just Cathy posted a very humorous article about computer junk mail and Jonathan Wolfman commented:
“You're such a hippy. r.”Jonathan Wolfman
I have no idea what he meant by that comment but it amused the hell out of me.
In a response to a post entitled “Ex-ist-ential Musings” by the brilliant and beautiful Dorinda D back in October, Gabby Abby wrote:
“Facebook is evil. It can meet you coming and going, even when you don't move one little bit. Spooky.”Gabby Abby
My point is that if the best writing is the writing that moves you the most then some of the best writing on OS is being done in the comments sections of all those posts out there.
So, there’s my challenge to you. Go back and find comments to your writing that touched or entertained or amused or bewildered you the most and post them for us all to see in the comments section below.
Really, it’ll be fun.


Salon.com
Comments
How are things in China?
My writing only seems to attract vanilla comments, all good ones! ....but that's a reflection of my chirpy writing disease...I'm working on it...
You're right, the comments can be the best, and how one actually gets to know the writer sometimes.
All good here on the home front for myself.
Come on, Bonnie, homework is good for you; like brussell sprouts without the ugly face.
I look forward yo see what you come up with, Nan.
If you really run for mayor after the nominated term I want a John Walker for Mayor of China Texas tshirt and bumper stickers ;0) That is the kind of t-shirt the brilliant and beautiful wear ;0)
jeff (nanatehay) always writes amazing comments. i was lucky enough to get this one just yesterday:
Just...damn. Reading stuff like this scares me; I guess that comes from my Midwestern/Protestant-ingrained characteristic of completely suppressing dangerous stuff like self-expression or emotion.
And by "stuff like this" I mean powerful, unveiled honesty. It's best to hide such things because that way they can't be used against you. ;-)
nanatehay
DECEMBER 28, 2010 05:19 PM
oh, and since you asked in a comment on my recent blog: yes, you deserve credit (or blame, as the case may be). i write on OS because you were here first and told me about the place. oh, and thanks a million. ;-D
Oryoki Bowl
NOVEMBER 03, 2010 01:14 AM
T’was the night of election,
When all thru the lands
The pirating wimmin
were making demands.
Yelling and cursing,
They came in hoards
Pillaging everything,
Waving their swords,
While trying to sleep,
I awoke with a shiver,
And saw young Oryoki
With a knife to my liver.
She yelled and she screamed,
And I was afraid.
I knew that she wasn’t
There to get laid.
I fell to my knees,
And begged for mercy.
But she just laughed
And continued cursing.
I’m no fighter,
I don’t want to be dead!
Well, you’re no writer, either!
She laughingly said.
So what are you good for,
If not for that?
Hell, you’re no good for sex,
You’re too old, and too fat.
Figuring I
was worthless as hay,
She pawned me off
On poor naïve Fay.
And thus is my night
With pirating wimmin,
Tossed overboard,
I found myself swimm’n
Wet, and cold
And left in the dark,
I’m now play’n tag
With a friggn’n big shark.
xoxox
Rod Emmons
NOVEMBER 03, 2010 11:47 AM
i'm stopping for a while until everybody else catches up.
xoxo
Matt, these winters are getting tough. It is always dark it seems. My garden is lonely too. I have been a sub. Perhaps you will enjoy it. Perhaps you will start drinking excessively. Both are possibilities.
Dr. Spudman44
~R~
December 29, 2010 01:09 PM
"Somewhere I was reading about a aging man who said he feared the flowers.
He teased.
He sensed death.
Death was immanent.
But, he never feared.
Death had no stings.
Flowers are beauty.
Life fades quickly.
Live well. Death.
Then one dies.
But, dies well.
He teased that the sight of flowers reminded him of his eventual funeral gathering.
Let's Live in a manner that death has no fear, sting, and we sense beauty beyond.
You know that.
If I saw flower?
`
I'd say`Scarlet!
Come on down!
Sweet Chariots!
`
I am thinking of Kathleen Battles songs`I love you Porgy? Mercy on Me. Sweet Chariot.
Angels do encamp.
Blessed. I's out too.
O Work to be done.
Life's a flower `
Then fades away`
But, never dies`
It's beyond`
any words...
Thanks"
Damon E Walters
AUGUST 24, 2010 02:21 PM
This is an excellent idea, thanks, Mr. Walker!
Whatever that means!!!
:D
Tink: That explains so much.
How did I know that some of the weirdest one's would be yours Femme
Dorinda: Only if you model it for me. extra small is it? I'm sorry, you're right I AM flirting with you.
That IS funny, Unbreakable.
Catch-22: that has to be one of the best. And don't call me Mr. Walker
"What a cruel thing to do to your child. Surely you understand that information on the internet lives forever. No doubt your life is hard. I suspect your child's is MUCH harder. Bi-polar is a mental illness, not a conspiracy to ruin your life.
What a betray of your child to put this out in public -- why would you do it? To gain sympathy? To show how tough you are?
Amazing to me how much credit you're getting for throwing your child under the bus all for a column on the net."
I thank this person (an anonymous bubble-head) for making me think very hard for a long time and decide that my bipolar daughter's story is MY story, too, and is okay to tell, if I can find the right words to tell it with dignity and tact.
I Love the Most`
Folk with Mystique.
I was tossing in my sleep.
You know Life can be a zoo.
I believe in 'total absurdity' `
but ...
I keep backing off too. I am shy.
Life just be partly absurd. Yes?
No?
No ask me.
mr. sunshine or folks like J.P. Heart?
Inverted Interbang and nice comets?
Comments.
Without poets Life would be futile.
Life is transitory. I never try poetry.
Life is so. You are so. Others are also.
Without You Otters Life be a big zoo.
`
I feel like chocolate hot milk in bed.
I am sipping raw milk with Ovaltine.
The first ingredient is barley grains.
It's a wonderful drink. nap on tatami.
If Ya fall out of bed Ya get head bump.
If Ya roll of a straw mat Ya roll in snow.
If I shake wool blankets Ya flap wings.
Some people singsong angelic fluffs.
I'm observing the mimic mock blues.
It's the smaller, most beautiful, bird.
It mimics other birds and otter-folks?
I heard that electronic analysis folks`
They say`
It mimic,
The large repertoire even can imitate?
A dog bark, piano notes, and O, Sufi's?
Now I feel like ginger. Snowman Wine.
Some humans are so beautiful. Be shy.
Shy conceals beauty. on and on. Silent.
Sometimes S/he teaches without word.
Observe, and everything we need know?
Without a Word - mysteriously imparted.
I'll go get my chew gum off the bedpost too.
Who don't adore ... shush up! okay. nap too
Art James
DECEMBER 29, 2010 04:59 AM
Johnny Walker!
It must have been something I said.
dry socket in the heart...heart emptiness usually for me means simply a shift of the powers of the organism/field
to Intellect...i.e. creative stimulation,
which i see you've gotten in magnanimously
large quantity...
brilliant post, blazing poetry...
Fuck yr heart for awhile...it'll come back...
feed yr head.
Jim
James M. Emmerling
MARCH 21, 2009 01:03 PM
Thanks John!
I just keep LOOKing at the photo.
What are Ya doing on Valentines?
Ya remember that Pink Rose Inn?
Ya recall Lovers Peak Mountain?
Ya wore Boomer Bang Costume?
Ya dressed at `Lea Lane's Motel?
Ya left Ya garlic aroma pajamas.
I kept them for a appetizer snack.
Ya wore a horse Boomer costume.
You smooched and got hoarse too.
I may but scanner a little pony too.
A lame tiger with a cold is bit horse.
Ya never reveal what happens here.
Lover's Lane is a Place to get chaps.
There is an Italian eatery near bye.
For a reasonable panhandle fee/free`
The Holiday Solstice Festival begins`
`
Chapped lip, tulips, and garlic breath.
We can wear bibs, chaps, green kilts,
and bake Italian sauced garlic balls.
There really is a garlic dough ball.
Homer loved the horse costumes.
Jest skip this. I forgot my brains.
My head rattles like marbles agin.
I shake marbles in a frying pan agin.
I may join Facebook. I get a harness.
Question?
hen do eccentricities become psychosis?
Maybe Halloween? Garlic breath smells.
Ode.
Lea Lane does a jig at the Valentine Inn.
Two pawnbrokers discuss Up/Down too.
Well.
Maybe we are in recession and depression.
My cold makes my throat horse. Heigh hoe.
Heigh-ho, and haul it. Hightail. Giddy heigh.
Let's gather at Lea Lane's street for PJ party.
BYOB.
Butter.
Milk.
Jugs.
okay`
bets
I bet on the lame mule with a sore throat and fat lip!
Art James
DECEMBER 13, 2010 07:58 AM
J. P. Hart
Comments are the lifeline of this joint.
Hope all is well and things are going great!!
MRQ
Orf now to g,g,google Texas.