I happened to realize last night, having at the time nothing better to realize, that I did not receive any of the usual awards for my blog in 2019.
The old man is slipping.
To be fair (to me) though, the awards have always come from Multiple Sclerosis websites, and the fact is that I just don't have much to say anymore about MS. While the disease remains quite involved with me, I am not very involved with it. I suppose there will be plenty of time for a more intimate relationship in the future.
As it is, my blog is now mostly about life in Bali, little mood sketches of this and that, complaints regarding the political scene in America, and other random fluff.
Why do I bother, you may ask? Well, it's a habit. It's something to do. It's a reason to get out of the house every morning at 10 o'clock and have a coffee in the outside community. Like the Henry James novella, The Turn of the Screw, it's a narrative about nothing, which yet contains, one hopes, somewhere some hint of coherence, of meaning.
I cannot in any case do anything other than this, for writing seems as necessary as eating, and is in fact more enjoyable than the latter these days, for it goes in easy and comes out easy and does not result in noxious symptoms.
The old man is slipping.
To be fair (to me) though, the awards have always come from Multiple Sclerosis websites, and the fact is that I just don't have much to say anymore about MS. While the disease remains quite involved with me, I am not very involved with it. I suppose there will be plenty of time for a more intimate relationship in the future.
As it is, my blog is now mostly about life in Bali, little mood sketches of this and that, complaints regarding the political scene in America, and other random fluff.
Why do I bother, you may ask? Well, it's a habit. It's something to do. It's a reason to get out of the house every morning at 10 o'clock and have a coffee in the outside community. Like the Henry James novella, The Turn of the Screw, it's a narrative about nothing, which yet contains, one hopes, somewhere some hint of coherence, of meaning.
I cannot in any case do anything other than this, for writing seems as necessary as eating, and is in fact more enjoyable than the latter these days, for it goes in easy and comes out easy and does not result in noxious symptoms.
1 comment:
Your blog is one of only a few I check daily. Keep writing! And thank you.
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