Seventeen years seems like a frankly absurd amount of time to be keeping a blog, doesn't it?
On the left-hand column, I used to keep a list of other blogs that I found interesting or topically aligned or just fun. After a while, though, most of those endeavors either just ran out of steam or vanished completely. Some of my original compatriots in the once-so-called “NYC Blog Mafia” like Bowery Boogie and EV Grieve are still at it, but several others threw in the towel long ago. Jeremiah Moss, as another example, made the heroic leap from blogging to the printed page, and is now on the threshold of releasing a second book. He still occasionally updates his blog, but he’s understandably got bigger fish to fry, these days. As I’ve mentioned before, the act of blogging itself seems just as laughably anachronistic as, say, buying CD’s and listening to music on an iPod… two of my other tireless habits. I remain out of step.
But apart from periodic slowdowns, occasional self-imposed hiatuses and the odd technical blackout, I have been dependably logging entries here on the still-ridiculously-named Flaming Pablum for seventeen years straight. It started out as an experimental gag, of sorts, and it’s practically turned into my third child. I have no insightful point to make here. It’s just strange.
As always, each time I hit the “publish” button on a new post, I genuinely feel like there’s a strong possibility it could be my last one. I live in constant doubt that I’ll ever have anything interesting left to say, and given the seemingly niche, select and/or outré concerns my posts tend to focus on, I remain fairly amazed I have any readership at all.
In any case, thanks for reading. I don’t believe I’m quite done yet, but we’ll see.
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