Blogging can be very fucking boring sometimes. I feel a sense of responsibility when I shouldn't, I write posts that I don't have the energy for. I will not post unless I have something to say. Except that sometimes I'll post so that you have something to read. Can you spot the difference?
I hope not. But I can.
On days like that, I wonder why I bother. Whether or not my time might be better spent making jam. Or eating it. I wander from blog to blog looking for tidbits to restore my appetite for this fickle medium, pushing posts halfheartedly around my plate and picking through them for phrases that make me think fuck me, I wish I'd written that. But too many are stale; stories twice told, the presentation sloppy. Too much sugar. Not enough salt. Peppered with links, pickled in YouTube. Not to my taste.
Every now and then though, something's laid in front of me that makes me want to dress for dinner again. Like this.
Pass the relish, would you?
I hope not. But I can.
On days like that, I wonder why I bother. Whether or not my time might be better spent making jam. Or eating it. I wander from blog to blog looking for tidbits to restore my appetite for this fickle medium, pushing posts halfheartedly around my plate and picking through them for phrases that make me think fuck me, I wish I'd written that. But too many are stale; stories twice told, the presentation sloppy. Too much sugar. Not enough salt. Peppered with links, pickled in YouTube. Not to my taste.
Every now and then though, something's laid in front of me that makes me want to dress for dinner again. Like this.
Pass the relish, would you?
