“I’m built for comfort, I’m built for speed, got everything a good girl needs!”
Those are the lyrics to a modern blues song written by Ry Cooder and performed by Joe Seneca for the movie Crossroads. I’m a fan of The Blues in case you didn’t know. I like The Blues for many reasons, but the main being that it is sheer honesty set to music. It is the only music that tells the truth about life in all its low down and dirty incarnations. It is when I forget how hard life is that I look to The Blues to remind me that I’m just one knucklehead among millions who doesn’t know shit.
I’m not whining, just trying to clear the air about the idea that you can be built for comfort AND built for speed. Unlike the song, reality doesn’t always allow for a happy medium. I started a blog with the idea of updating everyday, come hell or highwater. I managed to stick to that schedule for a time… at least until life interceded.
Granted, my regular freelance gig did its best to throw a wrench into the works, but that wasn’t the reason why I’m always late coming to the table. I blame The Brady Bunch.
I know what you’re saying right now…”What does a television show have to do with E’s inability write something for his blog on a daily basis?” Good question. Um… er, its like this:
I was a latchkey kid and television was my babysitter for much of the early and late seventies. I found the inspiration for the life I wanted to lead sandwiched between 30 second spots for Calgon and Mr. Clean. One of the shows that kept me from robbing old ladies and pimping hoes was the Brady Bunch. This fucking family went everywhere from the Grand Canyon, where they befriended some blood-thristy savages dressed in denim, to Hawaii, where they found themselves cursed by Vincent Price. I’ve since spent a good portion of my life trying to recreate their adventures.
That’s really how I ended up in Hawaii. Though Vincent Price is long gone, I thought that there might still be a few curses that I haven’t been introduced to yet. A tiki carved from lava stone has nothing on a spurned girlfriend looking to shower you with paternity suits. Again, I digress.
The idea that you can be both comfortable and quick is completely untrue. I’d like to think that the latest incarnation of the Monkey Diaries is built for comfort, but since I update once or twice a week at best, I’d have to say I can forget speed. Like the saying goes, you can do something right or you can do something right now, but not both. I could write quickly and post more frequently, but then there would be nothing special about my little missives. Somewhere along the line, I had to decide which was more important. Comfort won.
But that isn’t such a bad thing. I could be like many other bloggers out there and post pictures of cats eating, or babies smiling, or worse yet, cats eating smiling babies, but I don’t do that. No bad poetry… er, while I’m on this subject…
You are not a poet. Your poetry sucks. If your name isn’t Dr. Suess, William Wordsworth, or Lord Byron, you’re just a poser and the world would be better off if you just keep your inane rambling to yourself.
I feel better. Anyway, as I was saying it could be worse, but because I care about you, my audience, I control the urge to be average.