A SUMMER-LIKE EVENING

At the moment, I am listening to my Chopin CD and thinking about the blog world. I’m quite attached to this CD. In fact, I had taken it with me to Japan last month. [One of only two; I don’t travel with my favorite music. If I did, I would have never discovered the little song on the plane’s audio system, right? And btw, I DID get in touch with Air France and they are ‘looking into’ my request for the names and songs on their ‘musique francaise’ station – see earlier post this week on falling in love with a song on an airplane.]

Just minutes ago I came across another blog (here) that had oh so kindly mentioned mine back in April, only I didn’t know it at the time. I never really pick up on most of these links because I am rarely aware of them. I hardly ever google or study referrals or do all that is part of a typical blogger’s life. I know I should be more at one with technology, but there isn’t time to become at one with so many things in life and so I split my minutes and become at one with dilettantish inclinations toward scattered places.

Today’s blog discovery underscores for me how little and how much blogs reveal about their authors. Having read most of this particular (extrememly good) blog, I think I know a bit about this person. Except in reality I do not know her at all. In fact I may go through life not knowing who she is, yet I will know even small details about the creative world she inhabits. This happens all the time in the world of weblogs.

I know that without the protection of anonymity, many of my favorite blogs would not be published on the Net. It is sad to note that for so many writers, this form of communication, if traced to its author, produces greater personal risks than benefits. On the other hand, one may say that personal identification is irrelevant to communication. A voice is a voice, whether it comes with a tag, or remains faceless.