Friday, October 28, 2011

Home again

In early September I moved the blog to Tumblr. I was certain the new and exciting Tumblr format would magically dissolve all my blogging blocks, much like each new and exciting Swiffer product will magically make me want to clean my house.

Yeah. It worked just about as well. Surprised?

So I'm back in my old, familiar Blogger home. I've moved most of the Tumblr posts (9/2 - 10/13) over here so you don't have to worry for a moment that you might have missed something, uh, interesting. I also turned comments back on. (I'm hoping the Mumbai escort services have forgotten about me.)

Unfortunately, my last Tumblr post still holds true, so here it is, slightly modified to fit the current venue:
I was afraid this would happen. I’ve hit the wall. I knew I had wa-a-ay too much energy after I got back from Boston, and I knew I would have to pay for that. And paying, I am.

I’m going to crawl into my burrow for awhile and, um, groom myself or something. Forecasts say it’ll be awhile before I am able to cough up anything new… aside from a random Facebook status update.

So keep the tender bits down and I’ll catch ya... eventually. I always do come back, eventually.

p.s. Oh, and you can breathe now. The rumbling from my Oct. 3rd post turned out to be just gas. I do still like the connection between blogging and IBS, though.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Star Trek Universe

Watching the first episode of Star Trek: Deep Space 9 from 1993. Just realized that the computer pads everyone is carrying look suspiciously like color Kindles.


Monday, October 3, 2011

She's gonna blow

I've decided that blogging is like having irritable bowel syndrome. Some posts are like explosive diarrhea: the pressure builds quickly until the moment you realize the shit is going to come out, ready or not, and it’s gonna have to go somewhere, regardless of quality.

Other posts start off normally enough, but something happens and the process s-l-o-w-s w-a-a-a-y d-o-w-n, causing it to gain mass and lose momentum until it culminates in a catastrophic event where the hard, dry, dense-as-a-collapsed-star turd must be birthed, even though you know it’s too big and will tear you asunder, or you will die.

We’ve known each other long enough that I feel comfortable sharing that there is blog post with the mass of a cantaloupe working its way through the pipes. No idea when it’s going to arrive, but you might want to don some protective gear.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.