Lame Update

This blogging thing seems to be quite beyond my capacity. It's been more than two weeks since my last post, and the only urges I've felt are motivated by pangs of guilt over my apparent inability to keep it up. I'm reminded of the late sixties and early seventies when I had a string of - what shall I call them? - Diaries? Journals? Record books? For days, weeks, sometimes months at a time I wrote down the events of the day. For years I was glad to have them, because when I or anybody else wondered when something happened, or tried to remember some detail of a significant event, I often had an account of it in my book. Not always, however. For instance, my best friend Michael's wedding happened during one of the many long dry spells. I had a book for 1973, but the wedding didn't get even a mention. Then, in 1974, I gave away, sold or threw away almost everything I owned, and after a long soul-searching, the diaries went in the dumpster - 1967 - 1974 gone.

Is that going to be my final solution thirty seven years later? I don't even know if it'd possible to obliterate a blog. I know I can delete posts, but would there still be an empty shell left behind if I stripped the guts out of it? So far I don't feel compelled to find out, but it could come to that. I have two copies in book form of The Gospel of Rand McNally, maybe I should try it on that one. For a while it was many people's favorite of the three, but the stories are pretty much written now. Occasionally I tack on another one, but its raison d'etre is spent. The Business of Show still
has about five years worth of stories to come - if I ever feel motivated to write them.

Motivation to write is hard to come by. In the beginning there were a lot of stories to tell and I had way too much time on my hands. Now it's a struggle to make myself write anything. Is it because I have nothing to say? Because I still think nobody cares whether I write or not? Because My time is spent on other pursuits?

Yes.