I’m blogging because I’m stuck somewhere in suburbia. Somewhere where Walmart is the center of all social activity. Somewhere where the heavy perfume of liquid manure wafts gently through the air to tickle your nose on a spring morning. Somewhere beyond the rainbow.
Blogging seems like an adult form of diary keeping. I’m sorry, when I just quickly re-read that last line I couldn’t help but notice it seems like I was talking about adult diapers, which I’m not. Anyway, when I was a kid I had a great yellow Snoopy diary with a lock on it. In it I would scribble my latest crushes (“Jeffrey is so cute!”) and detail day-to-day elementary school hijinks (“King of the mountain on the snow pile today! Jeffrey is so cute!”). I even devoted a section to sketching pictures of myself that I’d have in my portfolio if I ever got into modeling school. Should I ever figure out how to insert photos in this blog, I’ll display them here. Well, they would have to be an artists’ rendition of what they might have looked like. My actual diary hasn’t been seen now for 30 years and counting.
At this point I’m going to end my first post. Maybe start sketching out some new pictures. And thanks for listening. And reading.