bloggin'

I started blogging because I lived with bloggers. I think this is unusual, or at least counterintuitive.

I would think that one writes on/at.../in? a blog to communicate with unknown people, or at least people that live far away, who's daily lives are unknown to the blogger.

On second thought, when I began to blog I was probably just imitating the impulse of those around me to create something geographically placeless, invisibly vulnerable...


Now I don't live with any blogging people. I think some of the people I know would like to call it writing..."writing people." But I believe (God, that's a word that lost its meaning to me) that blogging (whether it is journaling or social commentary or whatever) is one more step removed from writing. Speaking removed from language, writing from speaking, printing press from writing, blogging from ...whatever.

I read Dostoevsky's The Idiot the other day.

I slept late today and dreamt a lot this morning. I didn't try to remember any of it. It was all suburban. Banal. Less interesting than the real life that wasn't worth getting out of bed for.

I'm really enjoying my life right now.

Why do I keep thinking about skiing?