Thankfully, this is the last day for me to post a post about posting weblog posts.
In case you didn’t pay attention to last week’s ramblings and shortcomings, here’s the long and short of it (mostly short):
Yesterday, I talked about the fact that every weblog or blogging in general is a kind of shorthand for something else. There’s a code, see.
The day before that, I was so tired and then it was sundown and I posted nothing. This is in and of itself interesting to me, though, because I generally do not post on Sabbath as I feel it’s somewhat abhorrent and I realize that most people would think this silly, foolish, or otherwise overly religious. It could be said that posting to your blog is not “work.” But I think it’s a kind of work, a slightly easier, more playful form of work, yet still work. I don’t know.
The day before this one, I was in New Jersey and had highway-brain and so barely blogged.
The day before that was some kind of pablum on death and blogging, which was good, if not sad.
The day before that, I wrote about the relationship between contemporary art and the activity of blogging and how blogging was the latest form of contemporary art. I’m not sure I said that, but that’s what I should have said.
The day before that, I revealed how many/few visitors I actually get to Deckchairs on the Titanic and implied that this revelation was meaningful because it was sad.
That brings us to the first post in the series, the one that started this ballgame, and there were some great comments posted about the idea of audiences, blogging, and peacefulness. Since then, no comments have been posted and that, too, is a bit sad.