It’s a strange thing we find in a blog. Not what is written in it, but what it is in and of itself. From observation, I find it is very difficult to outline with any certainty the exact boundary lines that define what is a blog. However, I feel confident in speaking of them metaphorically:
They are the hole you puncture in the beer can so you can shotgun it.
They are the skin color, the hair style, the make up, and the lingerie of the prostitute in a Red Light District.
They are the whispers of a friend to his other friends about the thoughts in his head, bypassing the difficulty of organizing such chaos in spoken form, as well as leapfrogging the accompanying shame and embarrassment the same thoughts cause him.
They are the stage for the 21st century actor. We are after all, a society of aliases.
They are the platforms upon which we run our egomaniacal campaigns. ”BELIEF YOU CAN CHANGE IN”
They are Show and Tell.
They are annals, turning followers into historians.
They are urinals.
They are flower gardens.
They are the window through which we window shop.
They are training wheels for kids on bikes, hoping to one day safely govern a two-wheeled book.
They are the neo-high-school-niche.
They are pews in our nondenominational social networks where we sit and celebrate our gods.
They are the stimuli by which we hope to produce a sustainable pop-culture orgasm.
They are the fabrics that adorn our avatars.
They are our disguises.
And this one is currently the late Gene Siskel.
Finally, I’m trying to learn how to be ok with having a blog, myself. I don’t always want one, nor do I always want to write in the one I have. But I can delete it if I want to. The current madness in my mind is that no matter what I do, though I can choose to delete my physical body, I cannot, not even if I wanted to, delete my spirit…I cannot destroy it…I cannot cease to be. I am, whether I like it or not. I suppose I’m trying to patiently learn, day by day, how to give this feeling of existential claustrophobia in the face of the confinement of being over to the One who provided me with the existence in the first place…this existence that I am rendering unto Him who rendered it unto me.
Gentleman, it’s a strange thing we find in being alive.
I find you in computer form through you blog. Accurate assessment mate I rather enjoyed it. Cheers!!!
K. Couture