Why do I blog (and write stupid, long winded emails)

The drive to communicate in writing. Why we still tolerate and love mail.

Because I think, I write blogs (and write stupid, long winded emails). Honestly, it is how I think or more precisely how I organize. The harder the activity without being overbearing, it forces me to organize my thoughts. Talking is the least of the offenses, so if I’m droning on like sewing machine, I’m working out a problem with you. If I’m in the shower, its my senses that are filtering my thoughts (water temp, standing, shaving my head (I’m bald damn it!), wondering where the water goes, if that fly I flushed when I was 12 has landed in nuclear waste facility and is now coming back via the drain to kill me, etc.). Maybe even while driving with me. I’ve heard Bill Clinton talks with his hands even when he drives. Strongly suggest Uber if you are with Bill.

On standing – Standing is remarkably tough if you look at as biologist so it counts as non-demanding filter. Ever tried standing and thinking and suddenly notice you’ve walked to the grocery store. Not walking; that is a reaction. Douglas Adams (author, not sane person, Hitchhikers Guide to Galaxy, et. al.) talks about flying as the art of throwing yourself at the ground and missing. So the better word for walking is “a reaction for not falling while traversing a plane (level space) in a 3 dimensional world with Newtonian gravity”. Babies start on their toes and try to go fast to overcome forward inertia. My brother was very fast because he always walked on his toes. It also is genetic as his daughter does, too.

I LOVE you. Oh don’t go all homophobic on me, please! And since it in Magenta you don’t believe me, but it really is my heterosexual brain messing with you, really, I think, I mean it is; maybe its only my brain that is heterosexual, Oh shit!, maybe; grunt “gun”; grunt “football”, say “lumberjack”, cry “man”, sing “show tunes”, OH shit!; never mind. I mean I really, really like you, like you, had friends when you were in grade school and not like Facebook which one of the more insulting but viral trends of our generation and maybe the millennium but I digress and it is Mark Andreas fault who begat Mosaic who begat the WWW (world wide web) who begat Mark Zuckerberg after about sea of begetting (plus you learn stuff, more later, beget) and digress more and it is still Facebook’s fault and only because I really like the word begat and found out it came from the word beget (this is now later) which totally cool, wonderful and a Sesame Street moment and I’m Ernie and he’s gay (SHIT!).

Yeah, I’m definitely staring to not like hate like and fine (but that was for extra points since my wife says FINE and THE F-word are the same words spelled differently and lots more on that later). Fabulous is a good F-word. And so what is it about sex. Freud “shut up,” you are sick!


Tornado breath and lightening brain or vice versa.

Back to the other side of my brain, writing helps me slow the output so I can organize my thoughts. I used to think, it slowed my thoughts down or sharpened them, but the truth is they come at me like summer thunder storm; fast, heavy, loud, dangerous, and then not at all. When I can contain them like lightening in a bottle, I’m an utter genius. When not, lets just say I get offered pink slips, my friends hate me, and my even close friends buy me breakfast to start my day over including strong adult beverages.

Back to email [in case you thought I forgot], if you are getting my email, it means we are friends and I respect you even if I don’t like you and I want your opinion and I’m alive, thinking, filtering, and just maybe I think you’d be interested. Hey, you are actually being helpful. And I may like you or really like you (Damn!). And from my view, I’d rather you respected me than like me. It is less painful in every musical I’ve ever seen on Broadway. I have friends and their OK! (here we go again with Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook, damn). In this decade it is the equivalent of hanging out on the corner, the barber shop or the market or dare my highly heterosexual brain think it, the beauty parlor. This is big, harry, scary stuff, like a Bridget Bardot and Bouffants (here we go again!).

Why I wrote this blog entry. First, I’ve always been fascinated with how people think. Second, I love humor and I thought if 5 miserable people in NYC could be funny in a show about nothing, then this is definitely funny. But finally, and everything after the but is the real truth, it is Friday and I don’t want to do my EOW work bureaucratic administrative paperwork on the laptop. In short, I’m procrastinating and dragging you with me.

And for those of you who are my friends and even family and read my blog, you can stop reading now because you know enough about me that my apology for sexual, gender, race, ethnicity, discrimination, innuendo; and any harm that may have been done to dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters, amoebas, pine cones, mushrooms, small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri, etc.; real or imagined, I beg your forgiveness in perpetuity since this all in jest; (with my high squeaky voice) maybe