Fingerprints
No, my blog. I don't hate you. I'm cheating on you with a novel. Two, in fact. I neglect you... but believe that I love you. Just because I remember the fond days on MySpace from time-to-time, that first foray into this thing of blogging, what I describe as a public conversation with yourself, doesn't mean that you are not the most special thing I've ever known. That brought me to you, so it's part of my journey. If anybody's been paying attention, bloggers have become characters in the narrative of all, the Theory Of Everything. There's an art to this. The Art Of The Blog. How do you wield it? It's a fingerprint. Like a tapestry, a story of You is being woven. Do you put your thread in, or will others tailor your tale? The pull of writing is so damn fickle. Sometimes it's relentless, then others it's elusive. Truth be told, most of the time it's there when you need it most, and the more you let it in the better you become at it. I don't ...