I wasn’t able to publish the previous post until moments ago because the wireless at the BlogHer conference was wholly inaccessible. I could connect to the access points, but the dang things wouldn’t give me an IP address. Of course this was more distracting than the intarweb itself because I instantly switched into troubleshooting mode, trying to figure out what combination of settings might trigger my integrated wireless card to start flirting with their wireless access points. Other than the brief access I happened upon early in the morning, for the rest of the day, it felt like I was in my own personal dead zone.
I went to a session about hip-hop blogging and feminism, which sounded awesome, led by Lynne D Johnson who was well-spoken, had interesting experience to talk about (currently being the online manager at Spin and Vibe magazines), and had a good deal of knowledge about black feminist writings, such as bell hooks’ Misogyny, gangsta rap, and The Piano (to read later).
However, one of the people attending the session (who turned out to be Ponzi, girlfriend of Chris Pirillo) asked if she could have permission to “podcast” the session. I figured this meant unobtrusively record the speaker and the audience’s questions from a distance. Instead she proceeded to take over the session, interrupting Lynne to ask questions, and otherwise being rather intrusive. Even I felt uncomfortable. Brave new world indeed. Update: Ponzi responds and reflects on the ethics of podcasting. Justin wishes his criticism had been more constructive.
Toward the end, I excused myself and hopped in the car heading towards Woodside for the Bay Area Carolina Club’s Annual BBQ. It was just freaking terrific. I even recognized a few people, which I’d hoped for. There’s nothing like a familiar face, even if you’ve got to play 20 questions trying to figure out why the face seems familiar. Anyway, the barbecue pretty closely resembled what I remembered from North Carolina in terms of taste and texture—though I believe he used crushed black pepper in the seasoning instead of crushed red pepper.
It was 2pm when I said my goodbyes and got back on I-280, which meant I had completely missed getting to hear Heather Armstrong. Bah. Given the overall zeal of the podcasters/vloggers, I can only hope to hear it later. In the meantime sacredwhore has notes.