
Bless me, Father, for I have not blogged. It has been two weeks since my last post.
I have not been blogging lately because of:
The heat and the sun, the glorious moon and other distractions - such as music and dvds. Good times do not inspire. I know it’s the worst excuse in the world: to blame it on the sunshine, moonlight, good times or indeed the boogie - but I’m prepared to put my credibility to the test, in memoriam to the King of Rock: the stuff from Blackpool, can’t beat it! Better than that shitty, southern Brighton stuff. (I know, Michael Jackson is the king of pop, but the gag doesn’t really work with a cream soda reference.)
But in brilliant sunshine, there shall be no blogging, so proclaim the internet gods. Also, I know nothing of the plight of the Uighur people, or indeed who will prevail in Iran. I know as much as to pronounce that the Iranian people are brave fuckers - braver than I.
I haven’t blogged because I don’t have an original thought in my head – I suppose that entitles me to a guest post spot at Harry’s Place then.
I haven’t blogged because of family: kids live in the real world, despite the array of 21st century gizmos. I haven’t blogged because my partner wants me all to herself – lucky girl!
I haven’t blogged because of work, because of late running trains, because I’m watching Celebrity Masterchef and that fucking, great natural history programme where they chop up elephants and whales.
I haven’t blogged because I’ve been watching:
The Wave
Defiance
The Class
La Zona
I.O.U.S.A
I should review...
I haven’t blogged because of John Craven, because of craven desires, and my desire to be free - free at last: Thank God! I’m free at last – from the frippery and triviality of the internet - and my fascination with Sarah Palin’s syntax, her lack of punctuation and her unique grasp of grammar.
I haven’t blogged because I’m lazy, can’t be arsed, because I’m yearning for a foreign clime.