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A week or so ago I discovered that a friend of mine had a blog -- a Blogger blog. With those damned word verification things at the bottom. I signed up and got a blogger account so that I could bypass the word verification because I hate those things with a passion (something about the way the letters are garbled always bothers me). It didn't work -- even Blogger members have to go through the verification process. Meh.
However, when you sign up, they walk you through the process of setting up a Blogger blog. So I had this blog just sitting there.....
It's like having a blank notebook, really. You can't just leave the damned thing blank, even if you only draw pictures of your history teacher with buck teeth and an arrow through his head on the first page you have to do *something* with it.
So I wrote. I wrote one personal post -- about why I write -- but I am not writing about my family, or day to day events. This is not a journal. This is a blog. Well, actually, it's a place for me to practice my writing.
Tonight I ended up writing something I really rather liked, and rather than simply repost the whole thing over here, I thought I'd link to it.
However, when you sign up, they walk you through the process of setting up a Blogger blog. So I had this blog just sitting there.....
It's like having a blank notebook, really. You can't just leave the damned thing blank, even if you only draw pictures of your history teacher with buck teeth and an arrow through his head on the first page you have to do *something* with it.
So I wrote. I wrote one personal post -- about why I write -- but I am not writing about my family, or day to day events. This is not a journal. This is a blog. Well, actually, it's a place for me to practice my writing.
Tonight I ended up writing something I really rather liked, and rather than simply repost the whole thing over here, I thought I'd link to it.
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From:
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I think it's a bit of a stretch to conflate a guy with a memoir lacking in truthiness and an administration with more blood on it's hands than I have songs in my head. But that's exactly the kind of jump in logic that the character would love. Which uh... seems ironic eh?
Some of my favorite autobiographies are chock full of lies, exaggerations and stories that are as old as vaudeville. Especially the autobiographies of old vaudvillians. I've heard the same story attributed to many a marx brother, george burns and jack benny so obviously someone was getting out of hand, so be it.
I found Frank Lloyd Wright's autobiography to be moving, philosophically engaging and gave me an interest in archetecture but is it terribly truthfull? Nope. but it doesn't detract from my enjoyment of archetecture.
Seems harmless to believe the exagerations of artists and entertainers because there's no body count and no one was hurt. The same cannot be said for believing the lies of politicians. Especially not this current crop.