Sort of a Blog... But not really. More like a bunch of random essays. Or something.
Dad, Mom and baby me makes three....
Blogging is such a fabulous idea. Any idiot with a computer and internet access can suddenly create their own little kingdom dedicated to the most fascinating and important thoughts and opinions in the universe: their own.
That's why i love writing on the internet. If you click and read me, you've agreed to "listen" to whatever pops into my brain at 2 am, and even better, you can't interrupt. Sure, you can talk back, but I don't have to listen.
The problem with blogging, for me, personally, is that you have to make a commitment to write with some degree of regularity. I may be struck with inspiration three nights in a row, and then not have much of anything to say (or the time to write it) for weeks. That alone makes me a lousy blogger.
Mainly, I use the notes on my Facebook page to vent, suppose, obsess, mull, or amble down memory lane. Mostly I try to entertain and amuse in a pathetic plea for the approval of both friends and strangers.
So in this section, I've included some of my better "blogs." At least, the ones I wrote when I was sober.*
That's why i love writing on the internet. If you click and read me, you've agreed to "listen" to whatever pops into my brain at 2 am, and even better, you can't interrupt. Sure, you can talk back, but I don't have to listen.
The problem with blogging, for me, personally, is that you have to make a commitment to write with some degree of regularity. I may be struck with inspiration three nights in a row, and then not have much of anything to say (or the time to write it) for weeks. That alone makes me a lousy blogger.
Mainly, I use the notes on my Facebook page to vent, suppose, obsess, mull, or amble down memory lane. Mostly I try to entertain and amuse in a pathetic plea for the approval of both friends and strangers.
So in this section, I've included some of my better "blogs." At least, the ones I wrote when I was sober.*
* This is a perfect example of the dangers of personal blogs from writers of fiction. We don't exactly lie, but we can't resist a good line, or in my case, something that passes for a joke. (Again, it's that pathetic urge to dance in hopes you'll throw a coin or two my way.) My point: I'm always sober these days. I don't drink simply because I've lost all capacity to hold my liquor. Gone are the college days when I could drink a couple of pitchers right by my lonesome and still walk a semi-straight line, or at least remember how to get home. And I was a fabulous drunk; I loved everybody when I was drunk. Now, I have one beer, and I begin to yawn and want a nap. Gimme a break, will ya? I'm old.
