You wouldn’t necessarily suspect how fond I am of Marc Weisblott if you’d seen me whacking him with a rolled up newspaper yesterday afternoon in the Second Cup at Yonge and Heath.
Far from being a bad dog, Marc (the blog bod in Toronto) is a thoroughly good egg; advising, suggesting, encouraging – egging me on – continuing in his self-deprecating, cynical yet hopeful style. It’s a nice combination – like tears through laughter, or warm sunshine on a rainy day. Sometimes it’s the contradictions that underscore the truth of a person’s character.
No, I wasn’t abusing Le Weisblott on purpose, simply fending off a couple of determined yet wily houseflies; a pair I assume had come down off their fabled wall so as to better listen in to our conversation.
In death, as in life, they didn’t miss much.
But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
You see, Marc and I don’t see each other often, our contact being generally through email. In fact, on reflection, I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice on the phone. And now that I think about it, I don’t actually have his phone number, (mystery solved… so this is why his phone voice is such a well kept secret…) nor do I possess his address, beyond web.
(Crazy eh? Marc, for me, literally lives in cyberspace. How modern – how quintessentially millennial!)
We probably got together four or five times last year, and as few as two or three times so far this year. We talk about what we’re doing, enjoy catching up on mutual friends, (enjoy even more catching up on tales of mutual antipathies) and Marc usually surprises me with the scope and nature of his latest idea.
He’s always busy with a number of plans and projects and is, as far as I can gather, also an intensely private person. And though you wouldn’t know it just by looking, that’s a pretty apt description of me as well.
So maybe that’s why we’re drawn together. Rare as the occasion may be…
I’ve blogged about Marc before (‘Blame Weisblott’ November 28, 2004) and credited him with starting me on the blogging path, a path that has been one of the most satisfying of my life.
And all I’ve ever done for him was buy him one of those smoothie-type drinks at the coffee shop and smack him with a rolled up section of the New York Times for his troubles.
(I may also have purchased him the odd bun or brownie at Starbucks, but when you do the math, it doesn’t really add up does it?)
Yesterday for ince, he not only brought me two separate story ideas, bucked me up with his view of my potential: (“There’s the matter of getting your grander schemes in gear… just keep pushing the hook that you’re on top of things in a multi-platform sorta way… yours is a shtick deserving of an audience that goes way beyond the blog folks – not to mention all the people who don’t really know where to start in finding different ideas online…” pure Mozart to my clapped out sensibilities) but also provided me with a coupon so that actually, the smoothie I bought for him (when coupled with my own – a twofer you see) was essentially… well, free.
Free advice, free therapy, free drinks – oh, and did I mention he not only started my blog, but named it, essentially designed it, worked out the bugs, made multiple helpful suggestions and just recently helped me tweak it all over again?
Well, he did.
Free technical support.
So I’m just saying, Weisblott, I owe you.
Oh – and the possibly greatest thing about Marc Weisblott?
He won’t have a clue what I’m talking about.