Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The blogger always posts twice

It was a gray commute in this morning. Fog had set in on the Puget Sound and washed away any color it may normally have. I just stared out the train window, marveling at the number of cranes there were. I counted 14 until the shoreline slipped away and was replaced by the train yards.

The cranes seem like such patient birds. They stand there stoically waiting for fish, unmoving and without any emotion. I can't imagine a crane laughing. I wonder, though, what they think about as they stand in the water waiting for breakfast to swim by. Or do they think at all.

These are the deep thoughts I think as I ride the train in the fog. I kind of regretted deleting the Twitter app from my Blackberry, because the moody fog was just ripe for a 190 character witty tweet. Though I wasn't really feeling witty. I haven't felt witty for some time now. Perhaps I never was and am just realizing that now.

I did think about blogging while I was counting cranes. I thought about all of the farewell blog posts I read over the years and how odd that seems. How do you quit doing something that isn't really anything to begin with? And who are you saying farewell to? I've come to the conclusion that blogging is about the most solitary form of writing there is. Most blogs are hidden by the masses of other blogs out there that the odds are astronomical that they are ever read. It's kind of like being marooned on an island carving your journal on the rock walls of a cave pretty much certain no one but hermit crabs will ever look at your words.

Anyway back to farewell blog posts. Seems like a pretty pompous thing to do. It's kind of like quiting a job thinking you are irreplaceable only to discover that your replacement is already putting pictures up on your office wall. Life is like waves on the beach, constantly erasing tracks to make way for new ones.

I envy the cranes, though.


Naughti Biscotti said...

I don't intend to do a farewell post. I plan on just ignoring my blog until it is overgrown with weeds, completely erasing any evidence of interesting writing. Oh, I think that happened already.

Time said...


That's okay. I keep dragging out my weedeater every now and then to see whether you've planted anything new.

Naughti Biscotti said...

Count on you to flow with the metaphor.

I can't seem to write anything. I've been depressed but am trying to find my way back.

Time said...

Sorry to hear you are depressed. It definitely puts a pall over ones perspective. Hope you find your way back soon.

RK Musgrave said...

Hey man, I like your style... Nice.

Time said...

Thanks! I appreciate that, especially coming from another writer.