Possibly this serves as a beginning of something, possibly a renewal of old things, or more probably a momentary diversion for the author. At this point, while I do find this more interesting than my previous blog which advised readers only that while I was interested in them, I was not interested in blogging for them on this site, and can they please ask for me at the front desk, I don't intend to advertise it. I intend to first see whether there is anything to advertise. An initial careful inspection of the prospective product to verify that it is, indeed, worthwhile.
I begin this, but begin it without fanfare for a number of reasons, primary among them the fact that I can't stop writing. Or rather, I have stopped writing, but my mind has continued to pour forth endless writ, but is unwilling to transfer it to anything that anyone could read. It strikes me that one fundamental desire of all those bestowed with a sufficiently bloated ego to think that they can write is to have an audience. And while the chances of an audience developing for this spartan page are somewhere in the neighborhood of a hippopotamus becoming a spokesperson for WW, the chances of an audience developing for the essays written on the parchment of my mind makes the hippo seem a sure thing.
Additionally, I am not a man who likes to think of himself as pretentious. This is directly a result of the fact that I'm astoundingly pretentious. Still, one doesn't like to let the thoughts dwell, preferring instead to think of pleasant things, like hippos who go on diets discouraging the consumption or ravagement of human beings, and as such, I don't like to anoint my foul head with the fouler title of Blogger, until I feel I've done more to deserve it.
Finally, I find that the warm reception for many of the things that I have done in the past has frozen me with stage fright of the present. The warm reception has paralyzed me, and leaves me unable to write with ease, convinced that I cannot take risks, and cannot match that which has gone before. This is bunk, hogwash, and even lower substances that hogs don't deign to wash with, and I intend to challenge my assumptions, and teach myself to take risks, and to be ridiculous again. Because if one isn't ridiculous, one isn't necessarily genuine, and when one isn't genuine, one is pretentious, and when one is pretentious, one is ridiculous.
So there it is. A commentary on the seriously unclear nature of the future of this blog. Let us see.
I begin this, but begin it without fanfare for a number of reasons, primary among them the fact that I can't stop writing. Or rather, I have stopped writing, but my mind has continued to pour forth endless writ, but is unwilling to transfer it to anything that anyone could read. It strikes me that one fundamental desire of all those bestowed with a sufficiently bloated ego to think that they can write is to have an audience. And while the chances of an audience developing for this spartan page are somewhere in the neighborhood of a hippopotamus becoming a spokesperson for WW, the chances of an audience developing for the essays written on the parchment of my mind makes the hippo seem a sure thing.
Additionally, I am not a man who likes to think of himself as pretentious. This is directly a result of the fact that I'm astoundingly pretentious. Still, one doesn't like to let the thoughts dwell, preferring instead to think of pleasant things, like hippos who go on diets discouraging the consumption or ravagement of human beings, and as such, I don't like to anoint my foul head with the fouler title of Blogger, until I feel I've done more to deserve it.
Finally, I find that the warm reception for many of the things that I have done in the past has frozen me with stage fright of the present. The warm reception has paralyzed me, and leaves me unable to write with ease, convinced that I cannot take risks, and cannot match that which has gone before. This is bunk, hogwash, and even lower substances that hogs don't deign to wash with, and I intend to challenge my assumptions, and teach myself to take risks, and to be ridiculous again. Because if one isn't ridiculous, one isn't necessarily genuine, and when one isn't genuine, one is pretentious, and when one is pretentious, one is ridiculous.
So there it is. A commentary on the seriously unclear nature of the future of this blog. Let us see.
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