My first post on this board was about how much I don’t like blogs and how I never read them. I freely admitted then that this was a very hypocritical statement – that’s why I have no problem discussing another blog I read (when it updates) called “Curiouser and Curiouser” Here’s why.

C&C is written by RedLineGirl, a contributor to BostonNOW (think Boston Metro, only written by bloggers). RedLineGirl has an MBTA Red Line commute from Davis to Downtown Crossing and blogs about all the strange sites she comes across in her travels. Overall, it’s a great piece of Non-Expert Bloggery, especially since I can relate to her 100% - her commute is almost the same as mine (Davis to South), and we both deal with the same crap on the the T, see below:

…somewhere between Park and MGH, it hits - a tidal wave of body odor…No matter which way I turn my head, it gets worse… I look around to see if anyone else is on the verge of fainting, but everyone’s maintaining the poker face, pretending not to notice. Breathing through my mouth, I start looking around for offenders. And then I see him. To protect what is probably his standard daily outfit, I won’t describe it too much, but I will say that if Steve Irwin was bigger, bushier, and well…alive, he would be this guy. We lock eyes. My eyes say, “I know it’s you.” His eyes say, “I know you know its me, but what are you going to do?” He’s got me there.”

Great stuff. I feel a true kinship here.

Anyways after reading through her blog I realized something…if we both have the same commute, and seem to be seeing the same things on the train, there’s a very good chance we will someday end up in the same car together, yet the two of us will never know and never realize the when that moment comes. This strikes me as being very tragic, so I’ve decided to go on a mission: I want RedLineGirl to find me and write about me in her blog.

Why do I want to do this? Maybe its because in a city of millions, I know there’s another person like me out there, a person who exists within the three great oceans of anonymity – the subway commute, the Internet, and the city itself. Who knows if we’ve ever sat next to each other, or if I’ve ever elbowed her in the face when I’m trying to read the paper in a crowded car? She probably lives within a mile of me, and I have no clue who she is. We are like two train-commuting, city-dwelling, blogging lost souls. Meeting RedLineGirl would create a beacon of the familiar in the fog of anonymous crowds I wade through each day…someone that I know, someone that understands. I must find her.

But really, she is going to have to find me, which brings me back to my plan…

RedLineGirl blogs about the people she sees on the train, most of these people are quite conspicuous. I, unfortunately, am not conspicuous. But being easy to spot isn’t enough, I need to appear interesting…wait, “interesting” is the wrong word. I need to be “good material,” something someone would actually be motivated to write about. Being a writer myself, I already know the one thing they can’t resist - Duality.

So here’s my plan – During my commutes I’m going to read the most ridiculous, trashiest romance novels I can find. I’m not talking about “Nanny Diaries” or “Devil Wears Prada,” I’m talking about really, really trashy – like with Fabio on the cover. Actually, Fabio will probably be on all the covers. The more preposterous and outrageous the cover, the better. When a 6’3” guy in a sport coat is reading “Master of Pleasure” (by Jessica Trapp) at 8 o’clock in the morning in plain sight, its bound to be noticed. I will stand out, she will find me.

You guys think I’m kidding. I’m not. I have set up an Amazon.com wish list you can use to buy me trashy romance novels to read on the train. I have made a few selections (based on their covers), and if you should come across a good one let me know and I will be happy to use them. I only have one rule – No “Manuals” or “How-to-Guides,” I don’t want diagrams or instructions; I want stories about pirate kings falling in love with serving maidens, or whatever the hell these books are about. And remember, the cover has to make the book’s subject matter abundantly clear.

I will continue to read trashy romance novels on the Red Line until she blogs about me, her site goes down, or I actually meet her by chance. I really, really hope this happens soon. But if it doesn’t, and I’m doomed to read garbage like “One Night with a Prince” (by Sabrina Jeffries) for the rest of my life, its no big deal - its not like anyone out there knows who I am.