Tomorrow - not today - will make the twenty-sixth hundred post in this blog. I usually make a big deal out of it - I'm sure there are more people who have written more on their blogs, but surely writing 2,600 discrete blocks of text (& some pictures, most of which came from somewhere else) is a kind of achievement.
But. I don't imagine anyone cares but me. So, for the first time on this blog - & this is not related to this week's theme! - I am not going to mention on the blog on the day I get to the next notch of one hundred posts.
Do people still call them "posts," by the way? I have used that word since my days on the Usenet, but I'm not sure what people call individual blog entries. "Entries"? Anyway.
"Hey, Gary," I hear myself hear you say to me, "aren't you making a big deal about it now?"
Well, no, because this is the 2599th entry. Shit, that's a big number. Maybe I should be making a big deal about it.
"Hey Gary," the voice in my head says because I forgot to stop listening to it, "are you trying to have your cake & eat it too?"
Listen, man - you try writing shit down 2599 times. You write about dumb shit. Here's an entry from the 1300 series - so, roughly half the show ago:
Do you worry about urinary tract infections? Or do you have a urologist on speed dial? Could there be such things as lousy urologists? Wouldn't someone enter that profession to make the most money possible? So wouldn't they want to be the best urologist possible? This is something perhaps you know.
That's the sort of thing one might write if:
a) one really had nothing to say; &
2) one wrote in a blog five days a week
Indeed, this is not celebrating. This is a collection of thoughts I need to share with my therapist.
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