my blogging is so sporadic these days. the problem is twofold: one, i don't even have a computer at my apartment, much less internet, so my blogtime is limited to work and being at cat's house. since i don't have a mindless job, i have very little downtime at my desk, and so blogging is not practical, except for during lunchtime, when i eat. and i'm only at cat's house a few hours each week, during which i'm usually watching their enormous television and drinking beer.

the situation boils down to this: i am lazy. and i feel that although my life is more or less interesting, the effort it takes to convey in an interesting way the things that happen to me is just too great to bother with. with all the information-age self-promotion/self-confession/self-flagellation/exhibitionism out there, it's hard to feel that i amuse, or even hold the collective attention (or what little of it that i might attract) for very long.

additionally, i sense (or project) that the inability of the enlows to heckle me--due to the absence of comment capability-- frustrates them, and this frustration, coupled with the general infrequency of my blogs, detracts even more from my already-limited readership. i may as well, i feel, be writing to myself. these little keystrokes, so many ones and zeroes, may as well be winking and blipping off toward the andromeda galaxy or the cat's eye nebula or some other astronomical phenomenon photographed by the hubble space telescope that you see on the nasa website. ("this is ground control to major tom...")

then again, as dave eggers taught us in his magnificent a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, as long as it is acutely and wryly self-aware, self-aggrandizement is its own reward in this po-po-mo landscape. after all, in a roomful of hyperactive children, the one that screams loudest, runs fastest and bites hardest always gets the attention. and the one that gets the attention is the one who gets the most love.

take your ritalin with me,
TR