I was talking to my friend Clyde about how Blogging feels to me. It’s my depot of thought so that they don’t run around in my head anymore. It’s my friend at 4:00 AM when no one wants to talk. And it lets me repeat myself in infinity if I’d like without ever saying “you said that already”. And then Max said “it’s sorta ill too since it’s basically a diary that you are sharing with the world.” But the thought always scares me that no one is reading. Like blogging is my real world equivalent to the quote about the man who talks to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the Universe, “That does not create in me a sense of obligation”.
I guess that’s why I’ve been looking for W lately. He’s the only one I know who reads avidly. But I guess he’s been busy. Strange that I feel his absence. Cause I usually don’t or if I do, it doesn’t bother me to the point where I feel like sending out an APB email. But… maybe I’m just overly sensitive lately. Or maybe I’m just aware that I have the one fan.
Getting a lot done today… lemme go do some more.