A description of my blog. http://www.my-site.com 9056330616787593653 2007/03/#9056330616787593653 2007-03-09

Promoting a blog is all about networking with other bloggers. There are lots of ways to do this: you can comment on other blogs, join blogrolls, participate in memes, attend the illicit blogger raves that I know all you bastards are having behind my back, etc.

Lately I've been experimenting with a slightly more aggressive form of marketing. The first subject of this experiment was Cindra, who has a very nice blog called The Chronicles of Cindra. Cindra is a kind, sensitive soul -- and I capitalized on this weakness when I made her my unwitting guinea pig. The results were mixed, but I wasn't expecting much for my first attempt. And I think I've got the hang of it now, so watch out.

It's really so simple that I'm amazed that no marketing wizard has thought of it before. What I did was this: I made a guest appearance in one of Cindra's dreams. I can't tell you how cool it was in there. You know that Tom Petty video for Don't Come Around Here No More, with the Alice in Wonderland theme? Cindra's brain is pretty much exactly like that. Freaking sweet.

The first time I got so carried away that I forgot what I was doing and decided to be a rock star. I mean, why not, right? Unfortunately, as this wasn't my dream, I wasn't able to choose the venue and my band ended up playing a gig to six skanky old broads who probably couldn't have gotten back stage at a ZZ Top concert in 1985. One of them tried to entice me by waving her bra in the air. She didn't need it, after all, as she was wearing a belt. DEISEL AND THE HYDROCARBONS read the marquee in letters the size of refrigerator magnets, under the much larger and more intriguing RUMAGE SALE TODAY. The gig was an unmitigated disaster. We had to pay for our own drinks, and Cindra stiffed us on our fee. Figures.

I tried entering Cindra's dream again the next night. This time I decided to be a little less obtrusive. I found myself at a baptism, sitting in the front row of a church as the pastor trickled water over the head of a squirming baby.

"This is better than being a rock star," I said quietly.

"Glad you think so," said a kindly looking woman sitting next to me. "You're next."

"Whaaa...?" I said. "This isn't even my dream. Where's Cindra?"

"I'm going to go see her after this."

"Can I come with you? I wanted to tell her about my blog."

She laughed. "You're really an ass," she said. "Get up there, and we'll see about finding Cindra after you're baptized."

I went up front and waited for the minister to do the trickly water thing.

"That's just for babies," he said. "You need to come this way." He walked to the front of the church and opened a hidden door that revealed nothing but blinding white light.

I turned to find the nice woman, hoping to find some encouragement in her eyes. But she was gone.

"Tell Cindra I was here!" I yelled, as the pastor ushered me through the door. I blinked as my eyes gradually became accustomed to the light.

"What now?" I asked the pastor.

He shrugged. "Do whatever you want," he said. "I've got to get back to Cindra's dream." He went back through the door and closed it. I had screwed up again. I was out of Cindra's dream and back in my own.

Still, I have to say the experiment was a success as it yielded me a warm -- if slightly befuddled -- shout-out from Cindra. If I can stay focused next time and not fall for the "what's behind this secret door" trick, I should be able to use this method to effectively generate some interest in my blog.

So here's what I'm going to do: Over the next week, I'm going to show up in several of my readers' dreams. Don't worry, I'll try not to be annoying or appear during any embarrassing moments. In fact, I may actually help you out if I can. Like that dream where you're in your underwear in sixth grade and Mrs. Morrison is going to make you stand in front of the class and show off your pathetic insect collection consisting of three dead flies and an acorn? Well, I might just show up as a giant beetle in an Elvis costume. Who are they going to be staring at then, huh? And you can chalk up an 'A' for that little presentation, because unless Julie Perkins has a tarantula dressed like John Lennon, we just totally blew the curve! And even if she does, a tarantula isn't an insect, so we still kick her prissy little ass. Stupid Julie Perkins.

Anyway, if I do show up in one of your dreams in some helpful or at least inoffensive way, I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a little shout out. Oh, and feel free to take this idea and run with it. I'd love it if one of you managed to get into one of Arianna Huffington's dreams. God knows I've tried, but she's got some kind of serious firewall set up. I guess she gets a lot of dream spam.

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