Think outside the box. Box.
Computer. The internet. The internet lives inside the computer... the internet
lives in...
Great Scott! Blogs! Writing a blog
is like writing a book! "But," said the tiny voice in Dail's head
that sounded unnervingly like Humphrey Bogart, "you know nothing of
blogs." This is true. What is 'blog' even short for? Assuming it is short
for something. It must be short for something. Blogging? That's the process of
writing a blog you heathen. What little I do know is that it seems mandatory to
write in a style that assumes the reader is avidly interested in what you have
to say. In most cases, one would imagine, this is not the case. This is far
from the case. Miles. This is the case being put on the wrong plane and sent to
Sydney whilst you're on your way to Austria. Oh god, and that case had your
camera and phone charger in it. And most of your pants! What demonic spark of
inspiration made you pack pants and camera in the same case?! Was it to protect
the camera...? Possibly. Ha. Protection. Hrmph. All roads on the internet lead
to sex...
A blog about what though? Does a
blog need a specific theme or motive? Mesinks it may be time to do some market
research. Evaluate the competition, so to speak.
After 5 hours, Dail had completed
three online games, watched a film and ordered the entire Sherlock Holmes
anthology. He hoped to boost up his detective skills lest an errant villain who
had a penchant for laying intellectual traps about the place move into his
neighbourhood. Note to self, take up opium smoking and buy a deerstalker...
Also acquire ex-military medic for side kick purposes and homo-erotic subtext. Likewise,
commence retrospectively referring to past events as "The Case of..."
etc etc. "Ah yes. The Case of the Mirrored Trumpet. I skilfully deduced
that it was milk. The clue was in the consistency of his shaving. Messier on
the left hand side of his face, meant there was a window to his right."
Capital.
Dail finally decided to cut out the
middle man of constructive thought and just start typing. The result didn't so
much meander as mince without any hint of a perceptible bearing. Suffice to
say, that the topics of deforestation, childbirth, the "proper" way
to organise ones fridge (in accordance to Dail) and eight fun things to do with
a sponge and a spatula were covered within the opening paragraph. Not even a
long paragraph. Fifteen lines. Dail may have just discovered and perfected (in
the eyes of only those with the grandest and/or feeblest clutching of the
English language) the Linguistic Wormhole. Tiny holes in traditional planes of
logic that, if approached from just the right angle, allowed you to make vast
inter-topical leaps in a fraction of a sentence. And they're everywhere. Permeating
everything. Talking about toast? Blam. In the wink of a heartbeat you're
discussing sheep herding in New Zealand interspersed with art deco era
decanters. What ho? A casual chin-wag betwixt acquaintances regarding a new
pair of spats? You appear to be sorely mistaken my good chum, for presently we
appear to be deep in discussion about the best way to order a latte in
Naples.
Lingual Physics and the inevitable
Pulitzer-Nobel-Combo prize aside, Dail decided to let loose this opening salvo
on 'the limits of human comprehension'. A few quick emails to friends to say
"I've done a thing. Go and read it. Not in a 'I've just had Alphabet Pasta
and my digestive system isn't breaking things down like it used to' way. I
wrote a blog. Kind of. Enjoy!" and the waiting game began. Waiting, in
this case, involved making tea, eating biscuits (with said tea) and endeavouring
to perfect the long lost art of getting a bouncy ball into a cup; opting for
plastic this time to avoid any nasty breakages. Then he reread what he had
written. This, he discovered, was a mistake. Apparently, one of the rules of
Lingual Physics was that once a Wormhole had been used, it ceased to exist.
That is to say, what he had written only made sense at the time of writing.
Whilst Buddhists who believed in living purely in the moment might appreciate
this, most others wouldn't. And, as it turned out, didn't. The first critique
he received denounced thusly: "Enlightening. You're lucky that I know you
or I would probably try and get you sectioned." Most were of a similar
artery. Curiously, one such reply said "I want to read more. I just don't
know why." Posted by Anonymous. Gasps and zounds abound! A fan! This must
be what it feels like to be a pop star. Dail took a nervous glimpse outside to
assess his bushes (steady on) for any hidden paparazzi. Safe, but only for now.
Note to self; keep a wary eye about yourself. Those Sherlock Holmes books are
already paying for themselves.
Dare I write more so soon? Dail
weighed up the pros and cons and eventually settled on sticking to the age old adage
that less is more; and that more is what you should always leave them wanting.
To this end, Dail vowed never to write a blog again. "If you build it,
they will come" wasn't it? Well, famous quote, prepare for an overhaul.
"If you don't write it, they will read it."
Take that, Shakespeare.
