Blog Holes and Revelations

At the end of the day, I must face it. I care for my blog. I spend time changing the fonts and colours so that it looks pwetty. I add pictures so that people may look at them, stare enraptured, then heave a sigh and say “Oh well, now for the written stuff”. I think before I make politically incorrect statements. And yes, when I lie blatantly, like in the previous sentence, I allow serious consideration for public opinion and admit it.

A blog is a very tiresome thing. It will not behave like it should. It will either curl up and refuse to open, or, when it opens, it will declare war against your keyboard and make sure you have to click each link thirty times to publish a post that comprises three lines. It will behave like a spoilt, nasty baby and refuse to acknowledge the fact that you are capable of spelling correctly and inserting commas in the right places and putting a full stop after a particularly long sentence – things you have conditioned yourself to believe ever since you got a four out of ten on a school essay.

A blog can give rise to particularly virulent cases of obsessive-compulsive disorder. It comes out of its cyberwomb, sucks its toes impatiently till you have named it, and gurgles at its belly button till you have written the first few well-chosen words. Then it has you hooked. It makes sure that you come back once in a while, even if you don’t particularly feel like writing, because, well, others will read it, won’t they? And they must not be bored. It makes you return every few hours to check whether anyone has commented on your entries, to the point where you wonder how nice it would be if the number of times you checked translated into chocolates won, or free service from a Clean-A-Room facility. Or, for that matter, assassination attempts on George Bush. Worst of all, it paralyses your decision-making ability because it makes you think that people want to read something, and only a particular something, today. What do I write about? Do I highlight big words? Do I insert a picture of my pet pebble?

In fact, I believe blogs turn you human. It’s a paradox, because the human blogs – friendly, optimistic, hopeful blogs – aren’t really worth reading (what are Art Of Living courses for?). But the Other Blogs – quirky, unabashed, genuinely interesting ones – are in danger of evolving.

I always did prefer hairy simians.

Anyway, the reason my blog is making me inflict this entry on the world in general is that I hope the ones I enjoy reading don’t turn human too soon. I shall also endeavour, in an instance of extreme labour (with my tongue sticking out between my teeth and beads of ye olde perspiration trickling down my speckled brow) to save my blog.

I am not without hope. I have been politically incorrect today. Oh well, we all know how much of the world’s writing Georgie boy reads when it has nothing to do with four-footed bleaters.