Having read an article about the death of the blog – as evinced by the failure of such blogging greats as Barbara Streisand, Meryl Streep and Lindsay Lohan to maintain their blogosphere emissions – I began to reflect on the fate of my own beloved site. There have been lengthy periods when I have been wanting for anything even mildly substantive to write; and then there have been the moments when even the drivel seems worth the effort (for both author and reader). It is on these latter moments that my blog (and many others like it I’m sure) subsists.

Today could’ve been a wonderfully productive day. I could’ve gone to the beach to swim out some of the aches and pains that come with being an imprecise compilation of mechanistic devices that work in quasi-unison.
I could’ve gone to a cafe and written two hundred pages of a (soon to be) best selling novel constructed on the premise of wanna-be novelist dreaming about the days when the intelligentsia spent their hours in cafes writing novels, philosophising and enjoying the company of the similarly inclined. But alas, I don’t drink coffee anymore and I’m not quite so sure that the crowd of the ‘Quatre Gats’ would posthumously endorse any literary creation conceived in the likes of Starbucks or Coffee club.
I could’ve written a blog post about the death of blogs, or the fact that the Ian Thorpe doping scandal will be uncovered as ‘possibly the greatest ever April Fools Day joke’. I could’ve gloated a thousand times about Souths getting two points for something other than a forfeit or a bye. But these days Souths appear to be the new Gucci handbag – “Yeah man, I’ve been supporting Souths since my days in the ghettos. I’m way more authentic than you. I got bunnies in my blood biatch”…

Instead, I played computer games. Plain old turn-based strategy games. And then I tried to get my mechanistic devices somewhat aligned for some beach volleyball. Alas, bunnies in the blood and sand in the joints don’t seem to make for the epitome of athleticism. Far from it, it would seem.

And so a hot shower and some trackydaks and the day of lost opportunities is complete. I could’ve gone out for dinner or played budget ten-pin. I could’ve caught a band on the cusp of being the next big thing that almost was. I could’ve composed a song about the fate of the blog – “Where you been? I ain’t seen you in a while? Why don’t you RSS no more? From daily posts to a site of ghosts. Am I nothing more than a trackback to you? Lost in the past and never to be trackedback again? Will my comments remain in moderation till the end of time? A purgatory for witty remarks and silent admiration…Oh miss Lohan please stay, don’t just blow in a leave… Just another blog flushed down the toilet of time…I wipe a tear with double ply tissue and bid farewell to what we had and shared… RSS in peace…”

And what do you know, somewhere in the middle of this rambling diatribe of stupid proportions, Storm has fallen asleep and yet one more opportunity is lost…

Oh the absurdity of an absent mind…”It’s idiots like me that give idiots like you a bad name”…