I’m not a good blogger. It just isn’t me. I’m not the type.
I don’t write about current events. I don’t even watch the news. The Sunday newspaper is still sitting in the transparent pink baggie in which it was wrapped when the paperboy threw it onto the roof. It’s Thursday night and it’s still up there.
I’m sure that if I climbed onto the roof and opened the unread Sunday newspaper, or if I read a news website, or if I could figure out which of the three remotes turns on the TV, I could find something blog-worthy upon which to write. I could find something which requires that blog readers take sides, to cast their opinions. I’m certain that I could incite a riot of words, capitalized shouts followed by several exclamation points, and threats of violence, or threats by readers to never return. And then, I could tell them, defiantly, that I don’t care if they do come back, and that they should check their shorts for lumps to see if they had produced any brains yet. But I’m just not a good blogger.
I’m not topical, I’m not particularly controversial, and I don’t do consistent themes well. I bounce all over the place, changing directions erratically, like a sugar-addled spittle-grin kid on a motorized Pogo stick. A morning piece might be a love poem, or ten poems nestled in one, if read closely. By afternoon I might be writing, in a nasally tone, about the best method for shooting green jellybeans out of one’s nostrils, or I might be typing the surprising demise of a Zen monk, tossed off of a misty mountaintop whilst peacefully meditating, and of his bouncing off the cliff face on the way down. Surprise! A friend told me that I have ADHD. I could do a topical blog on ADHD, I suppose. But I can’t pay attention long enough, and I’m just not a good blogger.
I write my fair share of shit, but I don’t have the keen nose to know which topics will attract flies. That ability and predilection is a gift, or a curse, and I’m not sure which, but I haven’t stepped in it.
I’m just not deliberate. While not above questionable prose, I’m not good at turning prose into a deliberate question, something that entices readers to comment their thoughts. It’s not that I don’t care to know anyone’s thoughts, I like other people’s thoughts. Sometimes. It’s not that I’m so narcissistic that I only care about my own opinions, although I did manage to start every single paragraph of this post with some form of “I”. It’s that–- well, I’m just not a good blogger, but I still write a blog, and I’m okay with that, and if you aren’t okay with that– well, then check your shorts.
It’s too damned serious around here.