I’m gonna give this whole blogging thing a whirl…again. Only this time, I have a few disclaimers and confessions. Back then, I only wrote on two different occasions: When I felt like someone was looking over my shoulder (Who’s gonna read it? What will they think? Are they checking my grammar?) and when I was tipsey. My favorite posts were those I wrote while intoxicated, I believe, because I was writing without reservations. It’s easy to say how you feel when you have Tom Collins by your side.
I once had three followers. If any of you are reading this, I’ve got a favor to ask: please don’t post comments. I know that you care, but this go ’round I’m going to make an effort to not hold anything back, and your comments won’t help. It will remind me that someone that I will soon see again, in person, is paying attention and I am afraid I’ll start editing my thoughts. The feeling of being on a stage, blinded by a spotlight so as not to be able to see into the crowd will help keep me honest.
So in keeping with the goal of layin’ it all out there, I’m fighting off a bout of depression. In addition to feeling it in my gut, I just came dangerously close to paying a stranger halfway around the world almost $175 only to get the ‘permission’ to write how I feel, a password to enter some private chat room and the privilege to post pictures to a Flickr account. What the fuck? you ask. I know, I know. So I gotta do something, other than drink, or spend $175 on ocean front property in Oklahoma, to self medicate. I am thirsty for something to get excited about and I use to get excited about this little ‘ol blog called Monkey Hill.
So to the three original followers, please keep you seat, fight the urge to say something and enjoy the show.