So the other day Bill said this:
Gonna Take a Two Week Break
I’ll pop back in if something of actual moment occurs, but for right now, I’m totally burned out on the stupid wars between two lunatic positions: One, that Trump is Satan, or, two, Trump is a Perfect Saint.
Neither one is even remotely connected to reality, and I’m tired of dealing with it. Actually, bored with trying to deal with it.
Ever since which he’s been posting up a storm, starting that same danged day.
Okay, I just had to tweak my old friend a tiny bit there, no real criticism intended. Truth is, this blogging stuff is powerfully addictive. I’ve found over the years that if I stay away for a few days for whatever reason, it becomes easier to keep on staying away…for a little while. But then suddenly the urge is back on you, and before you know it you’re right back into the deep end again. Plenty of times I’ve done the same thing Bill just did, decided to take as much as a month off. I’ve even seriously pondered giving it up altogether. But at some point, usually after only a couple-three days, I’m right back at the ol’ keyboard, pounding away. The times I’ve gone silent here have nearly always been because of other things, circumstances I had no control over. And I was mulling over topics I wanted to write about and composing posts in my head the whole time.
For me, it’s never been about traffic, money, or recognition from my fellow bloggers. Since this humble hogwallow never has generated a huge number of comments, it isn’t really about that either, although I greatly enjoy the ones I do get and encourage anybody who is so inclined to jump right in. The give and take with readers is always rewarding, but I wouldn’t know what to do with hundreds of comments on each post like some of my fellow bloggers get. I barely have time to post, much less read and respond to eleventy million comments, which I would feel I have a serious duty to do. I seldom read the comments on other blogs at all, and then only on a specific handful of blogs.
It astounds me just how many of us are out there doing this now, and how many of them are quite good. It astounds me even more that I’ve been slaving away in the blogosphere fields now for, what, going on…uhh…shit…seventeen years?
That’s a long time by any measure. In that time, I’ve: moved house way too many times; played a shit-ton of rock and roll shows and travelled a great deal doing ’em; lost and found way too many jobs, in highly disparate fields; gotten married, had a wife killed, gotten married again, had a daughter, and saw that marriage painfully deteriorate and end badly; reconciled at last with the second wife and learned how to get along with her against my expectations; rekindled a lifelong interest in religion, accepted Christ, and made an effort to spend more time reflecting on and enlarging the role Christianity plays in my life; read a whole bunch of excellent books; bought and sold many guitars, amps, computers, cars, and Harleys; repaired a whole bunch of shit, and broken a whole bunch more; began working on a semi-autobiographical novel, and failed miserably; renewed contact with some dear old friends and lost contact with others; and lastly, gotten a lot older and more feeble—skinnier, slower, balder, weaker, uglier, but (sadly) no wiser. Or not so’s anybody could tell, anyway.
We’ve also seen tectonic shifts in our political landscape over those years, most recently a very welcome, heartening one indeed.
All that, and here I am still banging away at the old CF pop-stand, despite being a hell of a lot busier these days and finding it more difficult to make the time it takes to not just sit down here and put something out, but to do good work, work that doesn’t just embarrass the hell out of me. Life gets more complicated; it brings its changes, both large and small. It grants its favors, teaches its lessons, and exacts its costs. But, incredible though it seems, this blogging thing endures.
Yeah, I think I can make the assertion that blogging is addictive safely, with a high degree of confidence. Don’t sweat my teasing ya, Bill; you just keep on keeping on, as I already know you will. You can’t help yourself any more than I can.