Do people often begin blogs with the best intentions, only to sputter and fade weeks out of the starting gate? There are many, I imagine, who are quite content, and physically able to jot down whatever random thoughts enter their head on any given day and spew it out into the e-atmosphere, not necessarily because they're giving the people what they want, but because they just feel a need to Get It Out, and there are others (like myself, to an extent) who feel they need to make some kind of constructive entry every time they post.
While I've been a "writer" since 2nd grade, when I used to fold a sheet of paper in half, and fold it again to make a little book, ignoring whatever was being taught on the day (usually because I was ahead of the pace chosen to accomodate the slower learners, if you'll permit me a moment of egotistical confession), I haven't been one of habit since. My successes on the page have come in short bursts of inspiration, and I'll leave you to make your own Freudian metaphor with that one. I've been lazy for so long I don't have the energy to try and remember when I wasn't. It's not a point of pride, believe me, but it's the reality until I find the will to change it. I even downloaded one of a well-known motivational speaker's compact discs just to see what the fuss was about, but I haven't gotten around to listening to it yet, as I'm busy watching the entire collected episodes of various cancelled television series that may or may not be worth the time I'm investing in them, and buying used books at a rate of about 10x the speed at which I'm reading them. You see the problem?
And am I the only one whose concentration while reading has frayed a bit from the long hours logged on the internet, clicking away on half-connected whims to the point where you feel you're back on the couch again with 300 cable channels, unable to stay on anything for more than 30 seconds? It's taken a serious effort to buckle down and burrow into a book like I used to, and this last week I've made some progress, limiting my time online, and giving myself a good hour a day to read.
It hasn't helped the writing much, though. For a while I was churning out verse at a fairly decent rate, for one stretch when I was reading at a weekly open mike, and once when I was living in Paris and didn't have much use for the mostly indecipherable television stations. I've only written one thing in the last 4 months (see blog entry below), and my hopes for being more productive in that department while on the road appear to be yielding somewhere along the on-ramp, blinker desparately signalling for, well, safe conduct.
I don't think I'll ever be of a mind to come here every day and tell you what's on my mind, but I'll try and steal the odd moment when I'm at my most eloquent or thoughtful and share. After my recent Tom and Jerry posting I thought I'd go on more about the program, as I think it's fascinating for a variety of reasons, but no promises.
Anyway, here's somethingt topical that isn't about me: if you haven't seen Grindhouse, it's a hell of a good time, and worth the ticket price. See it with an audience.
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