In the comments to my last post, Megan pointed out that I need to post more frequently. Don’t I know it, but it just seems that lately every post I write is pure rubbish, unworthy of the check mark in the little box that would make it upload to the mother ship and magically appear on the intertoobz. I’m accumulating quite a collection of these false starts and near misses now, representing thoughts and ideas ranging from merely unfinished, through slightly unhinged, right on into barley-pop-induced wackiness.

When I look back over some of them, even I don’t know what was going on between my ears, but that shouldn’t matter. Back when I first started this blog, I wouldn’t have thought twice about publishing all of those posts. The difference is that back then I didn’t know if anybody was reading my nonsense, and I didn’t care. In my mind, I was alone out here, surfing the toobz, just another guy who reads a lot and thinks a little. I would often refer to my scribbles as compositional masturbation.

But over time, and despite the fact that I publish this site anonymously, the knowledge that there are people out there who do read my stuff, and take it seriously, began to affect the way I wrote. I didn’t even notice it happening, but something I started out doing for fun became a chore. Long story short, this monkey has been spending too much time polishing turds instead of just flinging them out of the cage while they’re still warm. So, I’m going to attempt to go back to doing it like I did before. I’m off in search of my mojo. We’ll see what happens.