I would rather exhaustedly write this blog post than watch another episode of “Becker.” I still swear it gets good, but it’s rather rough going. Ken Levine wrote about it and Ken Levine’s solid on his sitcoms. Old time blog reading. I think a lot about The News Blog, which was a thing back in the early days of blogging. The guy who ran it died. But like really early on. I can’t remember the details. So why am I writing about it when I could just look it up, which kind of sums up recreational non-fiction writing in 2020. You can find the answer instead of imagining or guessing the answer. It takes the fun out of bullshitting and bullshitting was a big thing in the nineties. Fucked Gen-X up. It’s Bill Murray’s fault. He was really good at bullshitting.
Chevy Chase too. Though not for anywhere near as long.
I wrote the above at a steady clip; I can bullshit 150 words, which must make the old Comics Fondle posts possibly nonsensical. The 250 word Stop Button posts are bad enough. Though I still do have thoughts about what kind of time to dedicate—in terms of word count—to the various media mediums. Seems like the more you can keep in your head, the better. Seems most likely one could keep a comic in… oh, crap, I wish I could remember if there was a RAM analogy I could make here.
I could look it up, of course, but I won’t because it’s late and I’m tired enough I thought writing would be a good idea. Not sure why. Though I had a topic. I lost the topic somewhere between turning on the keyboard and getting the dishwasher started and getting the third pass through the new water filter. The topic had nothing to do with any of those things. I believe it was something about how, even though I never took blogging seriously as writing, it turns out review blogging hits many of the specific wants I have for writing. Not the product of the writing, but the experience. I enjoy writing more than I did in the past, even during the periods where I’d stay up half the night writing. I had a whole system in undergrad. Back in the bad times when I was writing screenplays.
Ugh. The worst—when you remember those moments you, briefly, identified with Roman DeBeers.