I really think it's over this time.
I think the hardest part about coming back to posting on a blog is the fact that you are, indeed, coming back to it. The feeling that you are publishing to an audience is one that can easily daunt the unprepared. Just look at the previous post. It was about 2 years ago. I didn't care to fill you, the audience, in on all of my adventures, misadventures, and general shenanigans then, and I sure as hell don't care to fill you in on them now. Rest assured, I look exactly the same as I did in that picture with Megan. *cough* She's engaged though...to someone else...but that's neither here nor there. In fact, when you read this, please call me. Immediately (really, right now, call me). Let me know that you've actually been checking up on this stagnant corner of the internet. It won't encourage me to write more often, but it will restore my faith in the fact that people are too bored for their own good.
In fact, it wasn't even my concern for you, the audience, of my beloved (read: abandoned) blog, which brought me to post again. It was my little brother, who just created a blog for the sole purpose of writing a lengthy diatribe about half-birthdays. Thanks, man.
Andrew-- Thank you for your verbosity. I wish the rest of the people with whom I communicate would employ more than two percent of our exquisite language.
Blogger even went so far as to inform me of its newest features, as though it beckons for me to vomit my soul into the digital ether of the internet. Every minute or so, this yellow balloon pops up to inform me that "Now Blogger saves your drafts automatically!" Am I daft? Once would be fine.
I can't help to think that this whole blog thing - as far away from it as I have tried to get - has sucked me in in one fell swoop. Not only am I blogging about next to nothing (go ahead, start over, it's OK), I'm actually blogging about blogging. Fuck. (Ask an English teacher about that. They'll agree that dropping an F-bomb once --especially as a sentence on its own--is a remarkable and effective literary device)
There is much more vodka in this midori sour (about a shot and a half) than the recipe calls for (none), but it feels like a nice, still relatively tasty, nightcap. I think it's fueling me to continue writing. Maybe I'm really just trying to see how fast I can type without repeating myself. Maybe.
The original topic was shiksas. I think I have much more interesting things to talk about. I really have nothing to say--neither positive nor negative-- about shiksas. I had a great relationship, despite the shadows in which it was cast, and I'll be walking away happy. She hasn't known for months what she wants, but we'll see how it all ends.
I'm going to wrap here, as I find it hard to believe that there is anybody out there still loyally checking this on a weekly (or more often) basis. Good night, and get ready for Purim and St. Patrick's Day.
