Thursday, February 19, 2009


“Blogs are dead.”

This statement of doom was uttered by one of my writing-group cohorts at a recent meeting, roughly two seconds after I announced that I had started one.

Naturally, blogs are dead. This is the story of my life—the thing I finally catch on to has already passed the cool kids by. By the time I’ve hyper-analyzed some new craze enough to decide that the novelty/challenge of it won’t kill me, that novelty is cold in the ground.

There is a reason I named this blog what I did.

Ah, well. So I will be the one to persist with dead trends. They can put this on my gravestone; “the fact that she'd missed the bus never stopped her from running determinedly after it”.


  1. So ask her what's next - let's get in on a trend early this time!

  2. It was a he and his answer was Facebook, which we are already doing way too much of, right? Like you said, who has time to live what with all of this recording of it. :o

  3. buses and getting on them...or not. Here's a poem I love by Sharon Olds, one of my favorite poets...

    by Sharon Olds

    Whatever he needs, he has or doesn’t
    have by now.
    Whatever the world is going to do to him
    it has started to do. With a pencil and two
    Hardy Boys and a peanut butter sandwich and
    grapes he is on his way, there is nothing
    more we can do for him. Whatever is
    stored in his heart, he can use, now.
    Whatever he has laid up in his mind
    he can call on. What he does not have
    he can lack. The bus gets smaller and smaller, as one
    Folds a flag at the end of a ceremony,
    onto itself, and onto itself, until
    only a heavy wedge remains.
    Whatever his exuberant soul
    can do for him, it is doing right now.
    Whatever his arrogance can do
    it is doing to him. Everything
    that’s been done to him, he will now do.
    Everything that’s been placed in him
    will come out, now, the contents of a trunk
    unpacked and lined up on a bunk in the underpine light.