I’ve been on holiday for a month from blogging, and other than having been tangentially caught up in a bomb scare I’ve spent all my time in the garden. I needed to get some perspective and anyway, just look at my lilies – which would you say was the more productive occupation?
But my month is up today so I suppose I’d better get back to the post factory.
Not that anyone will either notice or care until I post something freaky and/or kitten-related or a cult comedy clip.
Then 2 weeks later it’ll turn up on some big-traffic blog with no attribution…. but no, I’m not going there. There’s enough blogger obsession, resentment and self-pity about already; if you could rewire the backbone to run on blogger bitterness you’d have a self-powered internet.
What the reader of this blog wants to read about is not what I think about Gordon Brown. Nope, our reader wants pimped up hermit crabs, plus a sprinkling of gossip about dancing queens and prominent people’s blatant hypocrisy and corruption – and plenty of babies dressed as lobsters.
Anyway, surely there’s more ill-considered political opinion than anybody could ever use from dull, middle-aged bourgeois nobodies in the Guardian’s comment pages, without me adding to it.
I may be too late already, but I don’t want to turn into of those pits of UK leftist blog introspection written by a fiftyish misanthrope in an empty room late at night, wanking over Westminster and the minutiae of the SWP’s alleged historical perfidy and consequent entire responsibility for the collapse of the Left, while the world passes on by and the country slides into petty tyranny of the worst kind.
Too many British left blogs, matter how highbrow, are just circle jerkis for those frustrated, fiftyish former Red Wedgers who now can’t afford to fill up the Mondeo, who feel guilty because they know it’s their own fault for abandoning actual politics for insular wankery and who vent their resulting spleen by bitching at each other on the internet – and who consider that political activism.
But enough with the meta. Less of the introspection. more of Teh Cute. It’s what the internet was invented for.
