Ad Nauseam

I'm back.  I'm not even going to try to justify my absence to my one reader.   

I did, however, over-analyze my failings in the blogger arena. The result of that self-flagellation is a working theory, as follows:  There are bloggers and there are not-bloggers.  Some bloggers are just born this way, others make it a calling, still others happen into it and wake up one day with 75.33 posts (more research needed in this area) and realize they are a converted not-a-blogger.  In any case,you can't sit on the fence, or rather, you can, but if you do, you fall off into not-a-blogger territory.  I, at my very best, back when I started my first blog, sat on that damn fence and fell again and again. I thought of my blogs as online journals that I could (and did) burn as soon as I got afraid.  (More on fear, probably ad nauseam, later.  Ooooh, great blog name!  Or, metal band.  I feel another theory coming on.)

For a week or so now, ever since Eden posted some excerpts from our email correspondence, I've been trying to come up with a post worthy of my latest title: Eden's Motherfuckin' Bitch TM.  (Prior to that, I was known far and wide as The Empress, but that's another post and another acknowledgement: remind me.) Turns out that kind of self-imposed pressure creates  a massive case of writer's* block. 


To my new readers: welcome, thank you, and I told you so.