I have been trying for months to return to my online worldwide internets blog, but to no avail. Not blogging is like sleeping on a superb U.S.-manufactured mattress or drowning in a bowl of cooked groats – alarming, then blissful. Nothing pulling the conscience forward, no sulking over site statistics, no bathing, no communicating with savages via moderated comment. No beautiful contempt writ large, no punitive anecdotes, no shopworn exhortations for cash. It’s sad, really.
I remember the days when blogs lent meaning to life with their gunslinging and confederate gibber-jabber and pervasive cat photos.