I believe that all will agree that I am a prolific writer. Whatever I may lack in terms of literary quality is overwhelmed with my sheer volume. Last month I had 113 posts. My yearly totals are on track to break my old record unless of course I suffer a major slump or writers block, which certainly does happen from time to time.
I like words and language. I enjoy sentences and written rhythm. Placing fingers on keyboard comes easily for me, even with my hackneyed two fingered typing skills.
I state the obvious for one reason. I have been engaged in a slightly familiar ritual of late that goes something like this, upon meeting my blog readers on this here physical plane;
Me: So, how you doing? What do you think of that thing I posted the other day about purple widgets?
You: Uh, Robert, been a little busy this week, can't really say I am up to date...
Me: Hey, no sweat. Not trying to badger you. I write so much, who could keep up? No problem at all, sorry I mentioned it.
I feel ashamed for being a nudge and expecting people to always be up to date with the Blast. The reality is that I am a pretty obsessive shpieler. If you are staying with me word for word, you are probably nearly as screwed up as I am.
Now the flip side is that a lot of people want to know why they aren't always on the blast email list. And the reality is that everybody is busy and I don't want to necessarily constantly buffet people with information, especially if they aren't in a receptive mood. I don't want to be a pain in the ass. So unless you are like Bob Degoff and tell me to make sure to send it every time, I try to spare you and lay off.
And I have to stop asking you if you are reading me. It is embarrassing for me, it is embarrassing for you and it is really none of my business. Tune in or don't tune in whenever you want. There are no tests or quizzes. I write it and the numbers don't lie, somebody is reading it.
Glad the rest of you have a life.