I’ve been telling myself since about 2010, when I started going to concerts and otherwise doing things that seemed marginally blog-worthy, that I ought to start a blog.
My stories are not spectacular or particularly unusual or more interesting than anyone else’s, and I’m not sure I’m any better at telling them than most anyone. But I love them, and I love sharing them, to the extent that my Facebook timeline has probably gotten a bit self-indulgent and cloying to anyone who doesn’t care to know, for the 12th time, the particular details of how A Rush Of Blood To The Head changed my life or Pink Floyd changed my life or my first oil change changed my life or things equally overreaching for an Instagram caption.
I keep those thoughts to those platforms because those platforms are binding and limited and no one cares if you write flawlessly or even coherently on them. I haven’t started a blog because I don’t ever again want the pressure of living up to my own standards I long-ago set for myself as a writer. My journalistic writing career was short and underwhelming. I stopped for good in 2010. I wrote one piece in 2014, a month before I was laid off for the last time from the copy editing job I backed into — quit my way into — because I couldn’t write. Or thought I couldn’t. Whatever was in me that fueled my overwrought but heartfelt creative nonfiction, I lost, and I’ve never really dared look for it in myself since. I know what I find won’t be what I thought I was 15 years ago, and my hubris doesn’t want to settle for the mere mortal that’s there instead.
But I miss writing. I miss telling people all the things I think are profound and know probably aren’t. I read beautiful things on other people’s blogs and wish I had been the one who wrote it. So, I’m going to try.
In order for this to work I need to try more than anything here to forgive myself for leaving a little slack in my writing, choosing a drab word when I can’t think of a perfect one, and writing like a normal human being.
So, here it is. It will be about things I like a lot. Bands. My car. Cats. It won’t be terribly eloquent, it won’t be my best; I hope it won’t be either as who can relate to that?
My blog name is a Pink Floyd reference, and the name of this first post goes with it.