Well. Am I doing this again?
It seems that someone like myself should have a blog. I've certainly enjoyed blogging in the past. It would probably save my friends a lot of trouble too, since I could yammer here rather than yammering to them.
Things look different to me now. I must be getting older. Happens to the best of us. Perhaps I will blog about creeky joints and my descent into old age? (The fifty-year-old me is going to look at this and yak.) Oh god, blogs are so pointless, aren't they? I am boring myself just writing this.
Ah, but there is still poetry left in the world. It is everywhere. If it exists, it has to exist in me.
That's it, then.
I'd better go find my sense of humor/fun/whimsy/absurdity. I'm going to need it.
It seems that someone like myself should have a blog. I've certainly enjoyed blogging in the past. It would probably save my friends a lot of trouble too, since I could yammer here rather than yammering to them.
Things look different to me now. I must be getting older. Happens to the best of us. Perhaps I will blog about creeky joints and my descent into old age? (The fifty-year-old me is going to look at this and yak.) Oh god, blogs are so pointless, aren't they? I am boring myself just writing this.
Ah, but there is still poetry left in the world. It is everywhere. If it exists, it has to exist in me.
That's it, then.
I'd better go find my sense of humor/fun/whimsy/absurdity. I'm going to need it.
