My problem--- and as my mother would say, this is like saying that the bride is too beautiful--- is that there are so damned many of you reading this.
Some of you read it on the off chance I’ll be funny, or just to kill time at work. An old friend (now in Canada, hi honey!) told me today she reads it to stay connected. Flatteringly, I’ve been Googled and I’ve been linked, but now I’m stuck.
Given that most blogs are complaints about not having anything to write about, I have an embarrassment of topical riches. That is, I would if I thought the rest of you want to read about my lumbago or how many reps I can do with 35 pound dumbbells. Hell, most of you already know about both. I’m having dinner tomorrow night with a couple of estranged relatives. Do you care? Of course not, nor should you, unless I eat something I can describe with hyperbolic wit. Not likely, we’re going to a deli.
So, tonight, Robert and I were talking about the day John Lennon was shot. Where were you when you heard? I was driving down Sunset Blvd, listening to KLOS. I’m not even a Beatles fan, but my world got darker. Then I went home to San Diego, and on to my then-boyfriend’s apartment. He was (and so far as I know, still is) a devout Beatles fan. I knew he’d be shaken, what I didn’t realize was that he didn’t know. How could he? He had no TV, nor radio (just records) nor did he read newspapers. I wish I’d broken the news better.
The connection? Contrast, my dear. Contrast between the unknown number of you wondering why you haven’t clicked to something else yet, and that guy in San Diego all those years ago, not knowing that his hero had become a martyr. I’m trying to decide if informational ubiquity is a good thing. I'm just glad that you like my blog, you really like my blog. Knock wood.
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1 comment:
After I read this, I had to check to see if Sally Field had been shot.
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