Week-end… is there a week-end?

A reader and a friend asked today what I was doing this week-end. Having stated here that I do not treat the blog as a personal declaration of any sort (see post March 2), you would think I would not take this opportunity to address the question in the blog context. Yet I feel I must. The simple answer is that a visitor is flying in tomorrow and so I will be taking another look at Truax and admiring displays in the gift shop in the absence of any other worthwhile airport activity. But the more complicated answer is that perhaps I will initiate a first meeting of bloggers-who-have-lost-all-sense-of-reality-in-their-conversion-of-each-day-into-one-long-blog-run.

Not everyone can belong. My colleagues, for example, are not invited. Ann rarely blogs in the evening, and Tonya has taken a day or two off, presumably to form a comfortable and enduring relationship with TiVo, whomever he may be. Since I am a founding member, I can state the terms: if you care more about posting than you do about calling your own mother (respectfully assuming that you have a mother), you’re in. If you travel to the desert and immediately start inquiring about the location of the nearest internet café (see posts, February 13, 14, 15) –you’re in. If you’re reading the second paragraph of the first page of the novel you started the previous week –you’re in.

Frank Lloyd Wright once remarked: “I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters.” A blogger is more likely to follow the dictum of Kingsley Amis, who wrote: “If you can't annoy somebody, there is little point in writing.”