yes, a web log.

To state the obvious, I now have a blog, and defeat is the only word that springs to mind. How else to describe the fact that I am now part of that which I have so frequently and publicly denigrated? Had any of those twenty-something Harvard autobiographers been just a bit brighter or better educated (remember Elizabeth Wurtzel?), they might have reminded us of this inescapable fact: true horror lies in recognizing that your putatively personal pain is actually quite average. Witness the proof, witness my blog.

Not that I will ever refer to myself as a "blogger." The confusion of action and identity is, after all, one of the more irksome symptoms of an individual and a culture desperately in need of low-grade, taxonomic affirmation. Look at me! I ride a bike and am therefore a "biker" -- I write songs and am therefore a "songwriter" -- I jog and am therefore a jogger! I execute an everyday function of the world, give myself a title to commemorate the fact, start sentences with the locution "As a," and am therefore a tall, frosty, mug of please shut the fuck up.

I frig myself thrice daily and am therefore quite average. Quod erat demonstrondumb.

But here I am, King Concession! Rub my thighs, Princeps Jejeune! Suck it, Queen Quotidian.

Perhaps I'm emboldened by the fact that my Hero over at commoncrofts.blogspot.com reckons that it's good enough for him. Perhaps I'm intrigued by the notion of formalizing my own ineffective voice; I've been shouting at walls for years without anyone paying attention, so I might as well shout at bigger walls and multiply the number of people who are ignoring me. Or perhaps I'm just trying to distract the words in my head from fucking up my grocery lists.

Please, welcome me to your world.