A mouthful

It has been suggested to me that writing without anything to say is similar to chewing with nothing in your mouth. I guess that's not the concern I've had since this whole blog business began. I find myself awash in possible blog topics: memories, rants, conjectures, opinions, the price of tea and the china that might hold it.
Babbling on breathlessly has never been the concern - doing it with conviction, there's the rub.
I wrote "The Great American Novel" when over the Memorial Day vacation of my ninth grade year. It was a bustling forty-two pages (hand-written on college rule paper), and it bristling with insight and passion. I even had a literary device: The Voice From the Great Beyond. That is well and good and can wait for its very own blog.
We were addressing the need to continue addressing things in a blog. It's awful darn meta if you ask me, but we're part of a post-modern world, so why not strip naked and wallow around in it? When you're done with this, click on that little button at the top of the page that says "Next Blog." Find out all about what is on everybody else's mind. It's not just me. On the contrary, there seems to be an ever-expanding number of people who want to share their points of view with anyone with the bandwidth and spare time to look at it.
Me too. I started because I have a friend who has a lot of haiku to share and doesn't mind taking the time to spread it out here in cyberspace, syllable by syllable. It reminds me of the idea I had once upon a time for The Cult of Publication. Who needs all those rejection letters? I can pick my audience, and then assail them daily if I choose. Later I pester them if they didn't post a comment. "What, didn't you like it? Where's my immediate reaction?"
So, I'll keep trying to find big bites of the American Dream to fill up my evening downtime - and you (lucky you) will keep wondering just what my point must be. For now, it's the exercise. Tomorrow I promise something about TV dinners.