If you don't know where to start, start with Now

A chance encounter with a friend who writes--a hairdresser with the soul of a writer, or more likely a writer trapped in the body of a hairdresser--motivated me to start this. Not that I'm new to blogs, oh no. Some of you might recall the infamous "Bolus" ("All the News that's Indigestible"), which started as a series of emails to friends in September 1996, and was shut down in 2000, I am convinced, by Castro's agents in the media. It was probably best described as a cranky version of The Onion.

I haven't blogged at all since then because of ennui, which I dress up as a condescending disdain for those who record their every thought on public fora. Now that my doctor has prescribed ennui pills, I shall join their insufferable ranks. Granted, not all my thoughts are worth logging, and neither are they really anyone else's business. So what are you doing here? Don't you have anything better to do?

You now see what I mean by "cranky."

Nevertheless, I've recently been making observations that aren't stories or poems or any genre, except possibly what the French call actuelles, which are these little hors d'ouvres made out of capers and goat cheese. Maybe it's because I drive so much--the road is an entrancing, treacherous muse. After careful analysis I felt that this was the optimum venue for such observation: it allows one to record thoughts quickly, it provides a chronology and an archive, and most importantly, it is free.