Wednesday 30 April 2008

I'm not very good at this blogging lark.


The decidedly eagle eyed amongst you may have noticed a significant drop in posting round these parts over the past few weeks. A most bothersome state of affairs for which I apologise profusely. Yet it could not be helped. A temporarily decrepit laptop and two separate cowboy attempts at repairing said laptop saw to that. However, the third attempt seems to have been successful, so far anyway.

I've missed my wee soapbox in the interim. So much reactionary sarcasm, such disinterested and immune friends. Truly, those guys stopped listening many moons ago. I can't even remember the last time they really listened... Sigh... Those carefree guys. Those endless summer nights down by the jetty in Mr. Stephenson's dinghy. Blueberry soda in one hand, swish stick in the order, guffawing loudly as the smooth pebbles flit gracefully across the still water and off the forehead of a retarded heron... I often wonder if I'll ever have days like those again. Christ, will anyone? Is it possible that we have all changed that much?

It is at this time of indifference then that I turn to you all once more folks. Is there a place for me still in your warm keyboardy bosom? Oh do say yes. For I am ready to fully re-immerse myself into this New(ish) Maelstrom buzz. I really do crave the validation, the communal gratification of the comment, the endless supply of chicks. I have ideas too, a few of them not crap. For example, there is another blog by yours truly ambling slowly towards the horizon. A more specific effort - very much in relation to my MA - that shall coexist in harmony with the shambles you see before you.

So there you go folks, my recent inactivity explained. A busted laptop and an unwillingness to habitually frequent the fine internet caf├ęs that Galway has to offer. It's not that I'm a snob. Honest. It's just that I find it difficult to mine my own particular brand of blog gold dust when another panicked Spanish student has locked herself into a phone booth and a clutch of scobettes cackle at the "shtate of dat wan Tiffany" at a recent 16th birthday in Moycullen... Ah yes, the (not so) quiet wonder of the Bebo stalk.

I'm rambling now, and I must be off. Fret not however, as further narcissistic self-importance is quite, quite imminent.

Or something.


aoife mc said...

Dude! I would be so sad if the new(ish) went away. Who else would write about retarded herons? Hmmm?
Come back soon, and sorry it took me a whole week to soothe your blogego :)
Your biggest fan (maybe)
Aoife Mc

John Cav said...

Aoife: Blog ego assuaged, I thank you kindly!

Activity shall be back to normal this week. As shall my commenting on the worthy blogs of others. Wink wink. Nudge nudge. Etc :)