Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Hiatusville

June 6, 2007

Tomorrow I leave for a vacation in New York. I'll take my laptop, but my dance card is pretty full and I don't expect to be posting on the blog.

It may be hard to understand that writing for a blog is (for me anyway) as much an addiction as reading blogs probably is for you. It's a public journal, an archive of life. As you get older you need to leave some traces of your work in a public spot -- whether it be graffiti scrawled on a wall, a poem in a scrapbook, a file folder of letters or essays, or even a baseless lawsuit that somewhere in your heart you consider your ticket to immortality.

Am I a writer? I started the blog because I had published a book, and I thought anyone reading the blog would be intrigued enough to buy a copy. The book did little to sell books, but it made me a host of new friends who drop by occasionally and sometimes even make themselves known. I see that I have visitors from the UK, drawn to posts about "Andy Worehole," which was the name one of my commenters used on one of the many posts about Andy Warhol. It's a phonetic spelling that the English might naturally use on Google, and I'll bet this is the only blog that particular entry takes them to. Others come from nearby Huntsville or Covington, for what motives I can't imagine, but I have regular readers from Jacksonville and the guy with bananas for a name lives out in California somewhere. At one time my regulars were from Madison, Virginia (benedict s.) and Sweden, and there were some heated and exciting mental battles between them. I still get frequent hits from a favorite oaf in San Jose, Costa Rica.

I don't know if I'll continue the blog when I return. I say I don't know because I don't. I tried to kick the habit before Christmas of last year, but I kept my hand in. Up until that time I was posting every day, sometimes quite well if I do say so myself. I suggest you browse past posts if you're interested. You'll find posts on specific movies and on the meaning of movies themselves, as well as the meaning of God, the meaning of life, and the philosophy of Marietta Johnson. Seek and you'll find. Use the little search tool at the top of the blog, in the left hand corner, or scan the months linked on the side. The blog was begun in March of 2006, but the first few months were deleted through an error of the blog administrator -- me.

I only know this. I'll keep writing, and I have a lot of writing to do when I get back on June 18. The blog may be one thing too many in the future.

Then again, it may not. It doesn't do any harm, does it?

6 comments:

sinjap said...

have a great trip...we'll miss you!

Bert Bananas said...

Blogging is Google's way of saying we all matter...

Traveller said...

I want to hear about your New York experiences when you get back. I was there in May and saw Bill Clinton and some men exit a meeting room next to ours. I found out later in the day that he (and GB Sr)were participating in a Sustainability Forum sponsored by some UN agency. We want to hear from you!

Bert Bananas said...

I know what Bill Clinton works on sustaining...

Nagarjuna said...

For what it's worth, Mary Lois, I hope you don't abandon your blog when you get back. Even if you post only occasionally to it, that would be FAR better than nothing.

Mary Lois said...

I almost wrote a post today I was so excited! I saw Anderson Cooper on the corner of 7th Ave. and 22nd Street!

When "traveller" commented that he had seen Bill Clinton, I thought, well that wouldn't float my boat an inch...besides, having lived in NYC for 14 years, I'm pretty blasé about seeing famous people. Ho hum.

Then there he was, in the flesh, in a neat metrosexual business suit, with a classy looking attaché case and all. Our eyes met, but he quickly looked away, trying hard not to get involved of course, avoiding the inherent risk of a chance encounter with an older woman. I respected his decision as I brushed past him. You'll notice I didn't say "brushed against him," being far too elegant for such a forward act. But I understood. It might have been. It might have. It almost was.

Or maybe I was hallucinating.