Preface To Disco: Neglectfulness

As I approach - what is it? - nineteen hundred blog posts on this blog of mine - that's a lot - I feel like I am neglecting it a bit.  Part of it is the general feeling, which co-exists with my lack of self-esteem & all-around self-loating, that I have nothing of value to say.  Part of it is that I spent the day (what free time I had) working on the radio show that this blogs exists to support (or whatever).

I am envious of people like Marc Maron, whose podcast I admire, because he does have something to talk about, twice a week, before his interviews.  He returns to themes - he is his most popular subject - & I'm not comfortable being as frank about myself in that manner, although I tried it for a time on some of the shows this spring.  But he still manages, between awkwardly pitching products for his sponsors, to have lively, interesting discussions about ideas & events that I can't really manage.

I wonder if this blog would benefit from small events & ideas that happen throughout my brain at any given moment.  I would probably resist biographical entries that didn't have something like a point or a clumsy punchline - for example, the wife & I just watched (& enjoyed) the first episode of the television show Please Like Me - but instead just have random train-of-thought observations. Like:

Tonight, someone made the comment that Enya never performed live.  She couldn't.  Too many voices.  But she has performed live, says the Wikipedia.  Just never had an actual concert.

That's not that interesting, but it was interesting to me at the time.  & funny!  It reminds of the time Leah at KOOP told me that Bob Marley died of toe cancer.  I thought it was such a dumb idea I bet her five bucks it wasn't true.  It was!  I paid up.

The other night we were walking the dogs & I thought I saw a shape in the sidewalk in front of us.  It was a sweet black lab whose name I later found out was Mandy.  I recognized her because she barks at us from her backyard & I've always wanted to walk up to meet her.  We banged on her owner's door for several minutes (we guessed he was in the bathroom) & finally he opened the door & we asked if she was his.  She was, but she wanted to come with us - three beagles & two sweet humans are better than a cigarette-smoke-filled home!

The next day or so he explained that the dog was not his but his ex-wife's.  He said he didn't really want her but liked having her around.  I got the impression that he would have loved for us to adopt her.

Tonight I thought, "What if he had let her out that night & hoped she went away?  & we ruined his plans?"

She's a sweet dog, & twelve years old.  I hope the situation isn't what I fear.

Would this blog be better with entries like that instead of - well, what does this blog contain, anyway?  What have I written for almost nineteen hundred entries?  I have no idea.  I have no idea.