requisite non-posting post
Though the posts on this blog are usually written as though they’re addressed at a wider audience, it is common knowledge that only one person reads them. Therefore, I suppose that this should be treated as a sort of individual service, that I have regretfully neglected to provide for a while there. This was gracefully brought up today in a personal email from that very patient reader, who said in regard to something I’d written to him, “Why won’t you write it down in your forsaken blog?”
Now, I don’t like to think of the blog as forsaken, necessarily. I’d much rather think of it as “out to lunch” or “suspended until further notice” or “until anything starts going on in my life”. There is a limit on goings-on in the universe, it appears, and other people were in line first, so right now, there are a select few whose lives are exciting, and then there’s me. I do have faith that my turn will come up shortly. An opportunity should present itself any day now. Something smashingly amusing that would transform into the wittiest blog post ever written.
You could think that today would be my lucky day. After all, it is the eve of Purim, the funniest Jewish holiday (if a nation as skilled in complaining is even capable of having a funny holiday). However, surprising though it may be, I just happen to hate Purim. If your hand is reaching out for a rotten tomato or that blunt axe you keep close by, your indignation is understandable. Blasphemy should not be taken lightly, and speaking out against the people’s favourite day of the year is nothing short of blasphemy. But in my view, just like New Year’s, Purim is merely an excuse for large groups of people to get very drunk and lose all sense of dignity. After going into Mea Shearim on Purim one of these years, this is all I can think about. Hey everybody, happy non-annihilation day! Bottoms up!
Anyway. The theme for NaBloPoMo this month is “Strange(r)”, and the notification came when I started writing this. This may be a sign. Or not. If there is anything strange that pops up these next few days, there may or may not be a post appearing here. If not, then I’m pretty sure I’ll come back in a few months to write another strikingly incoherent note on the subject of being unable to write. The era of meta-novels about authors and their creative process has come and gone. Now it is the time of not writing about the non-productive process. Eat this, Italo Calvino.