The Blog About Blogs #1

I waver with the demands I place on this blog. Often I struggle with the specific question of appropriateness. Thoughts go something like: is what I say appropriate for this space? Is it adequate? Does it represent me appropriately, to my own self-realized tailoring? Would I have it as I have my coffee, constant and unflinching, or as I have my wine, often based on occasion (...oh, a house party? probably not red, then, for fear of stained teeth, etc.)

Sometimes I want to present it as one presents a resume: professional, pointed. So that there can be no margin for failed intentions (think J.L. Austin's infelicities) and thus no margin for semantic disagreements on the part of my readers. In this perfect case, one can simply see how serious I am about all of these things that purport to take up residence in my life. It is an act of prompting, of scripting, of seducing, is it not, that I take you through?

Other times I simply wish to write and break with the context and character of this production. Erase the tapes, I say! Delete the files, and throw the cabinet out the window! Play jazz! But this method (which can feel really great) is sometimes thwarted by other said method (censuring method?), especially when it veers its head as the result of alcohol foul-play, ie. becomes a drunken-mc-confessional blog. In fact, I confess that I have even gone so far as to post things, and then only later remove them, for the sake of something I'm not sure I can even put my finger on. An indication, perhaps, that blogs are not diaries, and could never pretend to be. And yet while this is perhaps obvious, we still treat them as such. This is a drawer in my room.

I don't quite know where I'm going with all this; but I'm tired, so I guess I go.