My friend The Knitter told me I should have a blog. I believed her.
She has been listening to my stories and little anecdotes for years now. I often take these stories for a test drive with her riding shotgun. Unfortunately, sometimes I don't know the best way to get to my destination--if there even IS one--and she's subjected to jerky stops & starts and a lot of missed exits. Sometimes I just run out of gas. So I think her idea for my blog was inspired at least partially so that she could just avoid long, winding verbal car trips with me.
That was the last driving metaphor. Note the absence of a Jaws of Life joke.
But why would I want to write a blog? I guess that I fancy myself some sort of writer in the same way that a quadriplegic fancies himself a long-distance runner: A) he's not and never will be, B) no one else thinks of him as such, C) he certainly doesn't get paid for it, and D) he's too busy eating pudding and watching TV to run in the first place.
But a blog seemed like a good idea. A simple way to keep track of my stories and share them with people without actually talking to them. The blog-o-sphere will help me reach an audience, even if that audience is made up entirely of six or seven friends and a guy who Googles "eczema" and ends up here (Welcome, my red, scratchy cyber-pal. You are among friends). This blog will separate me from the losers who sit in their filthy apartments scribbling insane manifestos into notebooks and allow me to sit in my filthy apartment while typing my spell-checked manifesto in crisply designed fonts and bright colors. I will retreat further into the naked-as-I-write-this solitude of electronic communication, hoping that soon I'll be able to just lay in bed and make money while I masturbate. So, here's to ALL the dreamers...
But the actual reason I wanted to blog is this: before I got a cell phone or e-mail or began texting like a thirteen year old girl at the mall, I used to like writing post-it notes. I'd leave them for friends & colleagues to discover. Cute little messages with puns and jokey references.
"Gone to lunch. Want anything?"
Stuff like that--although that one contains neither pun nor jokey reference; it's just a pre-cell phone kind of thing. The joke being: You Won't Be Able Reach Me While I'm Gone to Lunch, So Fuck You.
Not a great example, really.
This is not a good start.