What?
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.
I remember the days when blogs lent meaning to life with their gunslinging and confederate gibber-jabber and pervasive cat photos.
5 Comments:
It truly is a dreadful shock when you realise that there is Life Outside Blog.
Then you get over it.
Oh well.
That's not to say you aren't missed, particularly as I only discovered your site shortly before your increasing periods of hiatus. I could be a demanding reader, insisting on a return, but I've not got that much self-confidence.
The only truly dreadful shock I’ve had involved my bank account and a family of meerkats.
Also, for your FYI information, my “increasing periods of hiatus” were not periods of hiatus at all, but long breaks away from by blog.
Found your way back at last, I see. Not Alzheimers after all, then. Alas, the narrative of this joke requires that I henceforth deny you the mind-blowing sex you so crave.
Stiff upper lip now, there's a good lass.
The good news is, I don't blog or bathe either. We had that in common.
i had a hiatus once. i forgot to feed him and he died though. what a baby.
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