Sunday, July 8, 2012
When I was little I used to pretend that Johnny Carson was interviewing me. And every night I brought down the house, was asked back the next night and the next until--I don't know when I stopped or why. Maybe it was just two nights that I pretended and the memory has expanded with time.
The point is, I have loved it here, my own teeny tiny corner of the world wide web, a magical mystical place of which I can barely conceive. I love the whole of it: internet shopping and Facebook, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Share This, Like That, Upload, Embed, Hyperlink and Google, Google Images, Google Maps, Google Analytics, Google Reader, This Blog and That One, all of it a rabbit hole where hold on, just a minute turns into 2am and a strange woman in Missouri knows more about me than most of my friends IRL. (LOL with the IRL. That right there is some pleather overall shorts.)
But the internet has no limit, no last page to turn letting you know it's time to get some sleep or go outside. So I don't know what to do with this feeling that this is the end. Blogging is dead. People have been saying that for over 5 years now and I have always thought it was a crock. Blogging is not dead, there are too many amazing writers, too many stories left to tell. But what if just my blog is dead?
Oh, I am probably not going anywhere and I am certainly not dead. I just need to think for a bit about what this is. This space. This blog and my voice, what I am doing here and if I should ask myself back for another night or a thousand. Lean in close to Don King as we rest against a bale of hay in a url somewhere on a Tier 3 Network far, far away. If I listen closely I am pretty sure he is telling me something smart, something wise...can you hear what he is saying? Or maybe he's just telling me I should have sprinkled some cornstarch on my balls.*
*See? I'm totally coming back. Because there's no way I could let that be the last sentence on my blog.
Posted by Petunia Face at 8:56 PM