I think that what I most love about blogging is that you get to write whatever you want without anyone looking over your shoulder. And you don't have to come up with an "acceptable" result. Whenever you are writing for magazines, or publishers, there is always an editor, waiting at the gate, to let you know what you can and cannot do. Kind of like those check points in war-torn places, where you never know if you're going to be stopped, and turned back. As a recently emerged blogger, I find myself free, able to resume my old experiment of trying to discover whether the universe, left to its own devices, is self-organizing. I get to do my own thing, in its raw state, without having to fit myself into somebody else's shape.
Blogging means you can ignore the "demon of progress." You can write in circles if you want, break laws, or traipse around in a flying machine, for all anyone else cares. You don't have to worry whether or not your work is going to "appear." You discharge your business, and you go. If you're lucky you offer someone their best hysterical laugh for the day. It takes exactly one second to post a blog, once it is written.
Of course, in my case it helps having such an ace assistant. Virgil has been really out there these past couple of months, stimulating minds and invigorating bodies. People seem to love his distinctive blend of comic absurdity and exuberant playfulness, convinced that this carbonated character is having a good effect on their immune system. Maybe even causing them to live longer.
When I tell these observations to Virgil, he reassures me that alligators only appear to be dozing in the sun. In truth they are really watching for literal and metaphorical tidbits to come within lunging distance, just like writers do.
"Hand-picked audiences that cheer you on are fine as far as they go," he says, "but I really need something else that will bring in some cash."
Virgil informs me that he's decided to launch a line of high-end apparel for Boomingdale's this year. He plans to mix up a patch of wild animal's mane or tail with the occasional paisley tie, then let it all hang out, in hopes of becoming the toast of finicky fashionistas everywhere. Next thing you know, he'll be wanting his own listing in the yellow pages, too.