I feel as if I should change tact. Sure, my blog in the past has been a relative success; but I posted a political blog which was picked up by Scottish Roundup on Sunday, and got a few hits from the site. Now I feel like a real blogger! I’m a real boy now! I felt especially good about the timing of this major boost to my blog when I read an error (shock! horror!) on Ginger Chris’ blog – regarding politics. Take that, More Popular Internet Personality! I felt like one of those ugly women who read Heat magazine to find out which celebrities have “unsexier” toes than them – yeehaw!
Uh, anyway, on review – I changed my blogography page and the title of my blog, again. I think one of the big problems with blogging is that one is forced to give a fragmented version of one’s personality, and there is far too much choice available. For example, I could choose to call myself anything I wished; yet my vague stab at a pseudonym (Los Davies) fails miserably. I don’t use this name in real life, and I hardly even use it on the net. I believe I have been referred to by this name once in my life, and I laughed. I could go through a list of other bloggers who tackle this fragmented identity problem much better than I do, but I would get into Ginger Chris territory again and be forced to admit that his blog is better than mine, and then I would feel all unsexy about my toes, and then we’d be back to square one in this never-ending blog-off that has a choke-hold on all our time spent on the internet. Or maybe I’m just putting too much thought into this. I also don’t think my Recommended Reading page works in the way I had hoped it would, as I don’t know how to order it correctly. Maybe I need a cup of tea and a lie down…
Evidently, this is not the kind of blog that will garner the same number of readers, nor demographic of readers as my still-popular political blog (I feel like Hyacinth Bucket when I say that phrase – political blog); but I thought I should compose yet another public apology to yet another dear friend (this blog is so much more effective (and cheaper!) than a stupid apology card).
I am sorry that I broke you. I am sorry that we got in that fight and I inexplicably managed to break your collarbone. I realise that a week has passed since we had our fight outside the Cathouse, and I realise that there is still some residual blame directed at me. Please, I beg, reroute this blame! I am truly sorry that I broke you; but it was not my fault. It was the Cathouse’s fault, with their incredulous Doubles Night. If you have already directed enough blame towards them, blame my work, for paying me to go out and buy said drinks. Blame your work for having such a great policy for injured workers, what with you getting eight weeks paid leave. Blame our parents for bringing up angry young men, then stressing them out so much that they had to go out and binge drink. Blame the Labour government for not doing enough against binge drinking. Blame Jack Daniels and his gout-infected foot. Blame yourself, for being 6’4; because compared to my 5’8, I thought there was no way I could inflict lasting damage to your frame. But most of all, blame Siobhan for starting the fight. Had she not been helping some guy who had passed out in the middle of the road (another casualty of Doubles Night), I would not have tried to keep you out of her way and it wouldn’t have got physical. Sure, she was acting as a good samaritan and stayed with you for six hours or whatever in the hospital; but let’s face it: in any scenario, if there is blame to be attributed, “it must be Siobhan”!
Yours, Los Davies.