Airport Affectations

Over the past two months I’ve become an infrequent blogger.

I once resisted that title.

“Blogger.”

I’m not sure what snobbery developed my absurd allergy to blogging as an identity.

Today I see things differently; I guess I’ve realized that there is a difference between blogging in the abstract and the concrete reality of this blog, this virtual dwelling place.

I’ve been busy, of course.

I write to you from an airport terminal, so on and so forth.

You?

I’ve come to realize that, for me, blogging is relational.

I used to think it was just about the writing.

A public notepad.

But, unlike other forms of writing, the blog entry, the “post,” is a commons of sorts — a meeting place.

These are not essays; they come far too quickly.

They need more time to grow up, they are children and babies, but they are usually sincere and wrong and hot and very all those things that blog posts are.

Reactionary; even when the reaction is purely internal, in the gut and the soul.

So I decided to write to tell you all, if you’re still out there, that I’ve been thinking of you, all of you, that I haven’t forgotten about the blog, that I miss you and that I will try to become a better blogger.

And that, yes, I guess I am a blogger after all, as obvious and stupid as that may seem.

Now to become a good one, a blogger worth reading.

If blogging has room for affection and no patience for dispassion and hollow boredom, then, it must be something worth our time, together.

Right?

Friendship often shows itself most clearly in the true enemy: the gadfly, the pest, the albatross.

What bitter rivals rarely find the words to say is the most obvious fact of all.

“I love you, enemy; you are my raison d’être.”

I don’t how this veered into the complexities of friendship and love and hate, but I suppose that is what a blog is for.

I’ll be in touch, soon.

My flight was just delayed, so maybe that will be sooner than I expected.