"That is not to go in the blog."
I have been hearing this a lot lately and I am beginning to doubt my friends belief in my integrity and my belief in my judgement, discretion or tact.
"Sometimes it borders on slander," V said tonight, as I hovered over my disgustingly pink drink, playing with it rather than actually ingesting it. Ouch.
"Maybe I should just kill it."
"No," V said. "It is an outlet for your creativity. Sometimes it is good to write thing to get them off your chest."
"If I was just looking for catharsis I would just keep a journal." Most likely one of those fat pink ones with the cheap gold combination lock.
All of this concern over what is and isn't appropriate and my apparent inability to tell the difference has brought to light an even larger hole in my blogosphere.
What is the point?
It should have an angle, right? If you are writing something in the hopes that someone will read it, it should say something - shouldn't it?
I don't know what I have to say.
The only truth I am fully confident in is that every original idea has already been thought and regurgitated a million times over. No brilliant conclusion I draw about my mundane existence, the trials of my lackluster love life, endless occupational schizophrenia, or debaucherous forays into the midwest social scene, fueled by the fodder of my friends and family, will ever be truly original. In fact, I suspect that my great hypotheses regularly draw a great big "DUH" from the other side of the internet universe.
And that makes me smile.
I don't know. I am gonna sleep on it.
Maybe I will let this die a slow cyber death or maybe I will rationalize my daily digital platitudes as some sort of ongoing hyperbole meant to amuse, enlighten or caution whichever unfortunate soul is bored or blood-related enough to follow along with my exploits.