the century mark
sometime last night whilst renee' and i slept, the 100th person wandered into this little area of the w-w-web. it's almost inconceivable to me that there are 100 some odd people for whom "i wonder what sammy's posted on his weblog?" is a legitimate question. perhaps even more astounding is the possibility that, assuming the number of total loggers-on to be something less than 100, there are people out there (you know who you are) who asked that question, sampled the fare, then pondered again what might be on my mind, and came back. will wonders never cease?
one thing blogging has done is make me wish i were a real writer. you know, the "get up in the morning, shuffle the tots to school, skim the globe (clarion-ledger, what have you), then doggedly churn out 10 pages by lunch" sort of writers. ones that either (a) smell strongly of cigarette-smoke, (b) can spout "how i quit smoking for the millionth time . . . and damned if it didn't work" stories @ will, or (c) decided long ago to lie about vices as a rule. so i read bird by bird and, lord help me, strunk and white, and i stalk around the square looking for, oh, say larry brown or brady udall, who may have foolishly wandered away from their respective duties @ oxford conference for the book events.
and i read. a lot. and i write in here, and watch a lot of movies, and play w/ my wife and daughter, and go to mass, and work for the judge, and sit in the swing w/ colemen et al., and check the box scores, and . . . i guess i just don't have time to be the big ol' writer that i'd like to be. maybe someday the other parts of my life will fade into the background enough to clear blocks in the day-timer for writing. and maybe, about that same time, i'll finally find the ever-elusive "something to say." then again, maybe not. either way, i'm glad you guys show up now and again to see what strikes me as funny or poignant or scandalous. but if you're reading this, and it's before 6p on saturday april 3rd, and you live in the south -- go outside!! that's where i'll be. then set your clocks ahead an hour, snooze a bit, and we'll start passion week together tomorrow.
one thing blogging has done is make me wish i were a real writer. you know, the "get up in the morning, shuffle the tots to school, skim the globe (clarion-ledger, what have you), then doggedly churn out 10 pages by lunch" sort of writers. ones that either (a) smell strongly of cigarette-smoke, (b) can spout "how i quit smoking for the millionth time . . . and damned if it didn't work" stories @ will, or (c) decided long ago to lie about vices as a rule. so i read bird by bird and, lord help me, strunk and white, and i stalk around the square looking for, oh, say larry brown or brady udall, who may have foolishly wandered away from their respective duties @ oxford conference for the book events.
and i read. a lot. and i write in here, and watch a lot of movies, and play w/ my wife and daughter, and go to mass, and work for the judge, and sit in the swing w/ colemen et al., and check the box scores, and . . . i guess i just don't have time to be the big ol' writer that i'd like to be. maybe someday the other parts of my life will fade into the background enough to clear blocks in the day-timer for writing. and maybe, about that same time, i'll finally find the ever-elusive "something to say." then again, maybe not. either way, i'm glad you guys show up now and again to see what strikes me as funny or poignant or scandalous. but if you're reading this, and it's before 6p on saturday april 3rd, and you live in the south -- go outside!! that's where i'll be. then set your clocks ahead an hour, snooze a bit, and we'll start passion week together tomorrow.
posted by Sammy @ 1:06 PM
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