Dec 04 2008
A blog is a blog is a blog
It has been complicated to keep my blog up to date these days. It has not been a question of time, as time is something we make, not something we have. It has not been a question of willingness, as I really wanted to do it, and grew more impatient the longer I saw the Nov. 22 date of my last posting setting the distance between my life and my recording of it. It may have been a question of why I write a blog… is it a megalomaniac disorder I am gradually developing or is it a need to access myself everywhere (assuming with total honesty that the bulk of my readers are occasional searchers for funny words or spam crawlers)? I still can’t decide, although it could also be that I feel more comfortable writing on a software-based pad than on a white sheet of paper. I don’t know, I am still scared of a feuille blanche, and less so of a machine that, at the push of a button, will draw me away from my own creation until I decide to bring it back by opening a browser. Maybe blogs simply require some looking after, unlike notebook pads where we doodle disconnected ideas that we are not necessarily forced to contend with in public, because we may as well have decided to keep the whole thing locked in a secret cupboard. But then, the anonymity of a blog helps a lot when it comes to throwing little messages in a bottle out into a wide ocean. There is no way of doing so on paper…paper is black or white. Either you keep it hidden from public view, or sooner or later you claim authorship of even your most disgusting piece of work.
Assuming that, despite my ping-pong monologues with myself, I still ignore the reason why I have not written before today, the simple act of seeing my fingers rush across the computer keyboard brings some relief. December has started, and I have a new entry in my blog. It is a metatext of myself, but that is what my life is, so it is as far as I can go today. In the meantime, I will be thinking of typical year-end reflections to populate a new posting with, and will probably come back before Christmas, to sing another song of myself.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
(Hay momentos para leer, para escribir, para escuchar/se…)
w:
Por Dios omitamos los balances de fin de año, juremonos en este espaci que no existe que diremos mentiras piadosas, que trataremos de desatar la roca y cambiaremos el GPS en dirección al río. Please?, puede sin embargo continuar con su “ping-pong monologues”, pues lo hace con estilo y fragilidad, ambas cosas escenciales, al menos para mis ojos.
La saludo cordial!
Miss Fiamma,
Indeed, there are moments for everything. Perhaps right now I have more of a need to listen, not so much to myself as to others, really listen. It is all in what we write and in what we say, and I really believe it. We simply have to sharpen eyes and ears for the task.
Thanks for dropping by, always a pleasure to have you in this space.
Regards
W.
Dearest Emi,
You see, now you are censoring me, and I already had the title of my next post…well, I don’t know if I will be able to resist the need to make a revision of my 2008 with its ups and downs (of course I’ll lie a little, don’t we all?). You and I know what this year means, and I’m still wondering if the next one will choke us to death, so why not being psychoanalytical about it?
Thanks for your comment. I’ll orient my GPS to the river, and fill my pockets with it (no more stones, we should all be techies in the 21st century). Anchors aweigh!
Take care and see U around,
W.