Add a new post, it says. The cursor is sitting there, flashing like a displeased cat flicking its tail while I try to think of something to write. I’m ever more drawn to the flick-flash of the cursor and ever less inclined to write anything until my phone beeps at me and breaks the spell. The first time I have ever been pleased to have a phone interrupt my train of thought.
Not that my train was going anywhere. It was stuck in a siding while expresses passed a short distance away taking passengers on their way to big adventures in exotic places. Rick’s Cafe Americain in Casablanca. Rick will give up Ilsa for Victor again and go off to have a beautiful friendship with Louis and the cursor will still flash and flash and flash. Robin Hood will fight Little John on that bridge and Marion will love him in spite of everything and together they will foil the Sheriff of Nottingham while the cursor flashes on. Luke will become a Jedi and find his real father. Queen Katherine will lose her husband, the philandering King Henry. There will be car chases and boats and gun fights, passion and love while the cursor flashes away, never faster, never slower, and my despair grows.
Add a post, it says.
This is going to come as a shock to some of you but I do try to exercise some kind of quality control over what appears in this blog. It’s not all just stream of consciousness swearing and yearning for a better running experience. I’ve written something most Sunday evenings since the last post appeared and binned each of them because every one of them was drivel. The internet is full enough of shite as it is without me making it any worse.
It’s been weeks since I’ve written anything I’ve been happy with and it might be weeks again before anything else appears. I have inklings of another project but I don’t have enough time to do it justice. I’ve even bought a couple of new internet domains for the websites I’m going to have to build for them.
I have been thinking about things. I have been wondering why blogs are called blogs and not webbles. Maybe webble posts wouldn’t have caught on in quite the same way. Other people lack my whimsy after all. You could then have moved into other media with viddles instead of vlogs. Vlogs sound like something the baddies in a Douglas Adams novel would leave in an overflowing toilet bowl.
See, I’ve saved the quality ruminations for you tonight.
I remembered something about about an American state legislature in the Nineteenth Century which declared that pi was 4 and not 3.14159265359 etc and then I became distracted by pie. Homer Simpson lives. My butterfly mind flitted on.
What if we had coypus instead of cats? #Coypuday on Twitter would be hilarious. Grumpy Coypu. Think about it. They have huge orange front teeth. They’re a dentist’s screaming nightmare, the antidote to all those toothpaste ads I hate.
Would you run through mud more quickly in bare feet than in knobbly shoes? I hate cleaning my running shoes after a muddy run but feet are easy to wash and come up as good as new unless you’ve been running through Dovedale. I did the Dovedale Dash for the first time last weekend and I think the mud will still be there should I go to the race again next year.
I’m going to stop there because I’ve thrown away more tonight than I’ve published here and I’m not convinced that what I’ve published is really worth reading. I just wanted to justify having the webble in the first place.