"Why did you stop blogging?" a friend asked me the other day. And one of my oldest friends (making me laugh even as he cursed me) is frustrated by my silence.
Ah well. Such is life—or blogging, more apt. In life we can explain the need for silence with a little shrug. Consider this a little shrug.
And, as Ricky Gervais points out in his (fabulously hilarious) special Out of England who fucking cares about every little whine and gripe and what-I'm-making-for-dinner and how-I-slept/didn't-sleep in my life? I like his blog, though. He's so amazingly normal, which probably reveals how abnormal I am.
On the other hand, I miss all of you. I miss the stance I take to address you. I have to kind of lean back, maybe against some tree or a wall or the fender of a Jaguar, I don't know. I square my shoulders but slouch, too. "Hey babes," I say to the invisible, silent not-you you listening: "how's it hanging?"
