Comeback Is Probably An Appropriate Term, Actually

Watch This Space! (but I won't bother you if you don't)

I've been posting more lately on my Myspace page, and now I worry that it's often enough to be annoying to people who see the urgent red notice "You Have New Blog Posts!" and who may click on such a high-priority type of alert just to be exposed to another random thought (actually, it's been all bikes lately), or a link to some high-fallutin' magazine article or youtube arcanity from yours truly.

I imagine the reactions generally ranging somewhere on a spectrum between anger and pity. I'm hopeful enough to fantasize otherwise, but grounded enough to know that not everyone always want to be notified every time I commit some half-formed rumination to electrons. My posted cogitations are sometimes just ways to sort out my thinking, to take the brain for a walk, to remember what it's like to put sentences together, or just to dust off the good ol' synonymy.   Sometimes I fancy that they may be of value to others, but mostly I find them to be of value to me. While my bruised and beaten ego is nournishd by the notion of an audience, at the end of the day I'm still allergic to any conscious pretense or self-promotion. In a nutshell, I'd like to write more often but don't want to put up a bright red alert everytime I do.  

Or course, there are also many instances in which I really have no original thoughts to share, but simply want to share something else of interest to whomever cares to pay my little blog a visit, and at times like these, alert is even less appropriate.  The little boy cries wolf when he sees a wolf, not when he wants to show someone the neat looking rock he just found (or whatever the little boy might have a desire to share at that particular moment that didn't involve a wolf), which is a very clumsy way of saying that I'm interested in speaking more often, and in softer tones.  No RED required.

So until my inspiration dries up to a trickle again, or until I find another friendly set of eyes and ears toward which to direct my insights/witticisms/pointless bits of drivel/musical and film suggestions/German velobike videos,   I will decompress by spewing my thoughts by means of ten manual digits into this less personal, colder, more permanent-come-back-to-embarrass-you-sooner-or-later electronic receptacle before me, open to you and the world and your praise, scorn or indifference.