Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Edit at 12.28 am on Sunday 2nd April (my brother takes a long time to move).

Yes it was.

A bit uninspired maybe, but then it's nearly true, so it would have to be a bit uninspired.

So while I might not be quitting blogging, I equally might not be as prolific as I have been and ought to be.

Of course, having typed the stuff below, some of it seems accurate. Blogging isn't as fun as it used to be. For whatever reason I feel I can't write as expansively as I used to. I'm increasingly aware, and annoyed by, self-censorship, yet can see no way round it. Perhaps I could write different blogs for different subjects, and different levels of investigation, analysis and knowledge. Yet my life doesn't work like that, and my brain doesn't work like that; nothing stays in the box. So not only would I be sunk by fuzzy boundaries, but also I know that split two or three ways, my blogging effort is either going to absorb yet more time, or the frequency of posting on each will be painfully low. Plus I'm never very good at apportioning equal time to equal tasks, so I'll inevitably end up neglecting at least one of the alternatives. So schizophrenic blogging isn't me.

Part of the problem probably is that I'm not a "I am what I am" person. If I try saying that, it perpetually leads to "but what am I?" And that... well we've been here before (maybe - maybe we never left).

Sorry, this is quite long and rambling for a simple "rumours of my demise".

I'm not quitting - yet.

Anyhoo,

I'm taking the badge off my bag

When I met Dan last weekend, at some point I noted that he had a Flickr badge on his bag. He then told me that until recently he had another one there, which read: I love blogging.

Other than not being sure whether it's written "love" or one of those NY [heart] things (by the way, has the copyright run out on that, as it's appearing everywhere suddenly), I initially was concerned that he took it off because he said he'd pretty much given up on blogging, at least on anywhere beyond his proper site. I didn't say much in reply, but felt I should, yet resisted as I'm not sure how berating works with a backdrop of Bauhaus (yes, we went to the thing everyone strangely calls either the Bauhaus thing or the Albers thing; can't think why).

I thought it would wait until I sent him the email thanking him for the day, which of course never quite got sent, until he sent something, which then made it harder to manipulate the content round to telling him to get his arse in gear and start blogging again. And by the time he'd sent it, I hadn't posted anything since before seeing him, and still wasn't sure what to post. I don't have enough good material, and what I do have I have to weed for public consumption, and how on earth does one write about people you know will read it?

So it hit a block. Nothing happened for a week, and then I realised that this keeps happening - not meeting Dan - but posts simply not flowing like they used to. I worry about everything on here being samey. I think that it never used to be; until I read the archives that is.

Maybe it's just the Flickr effect; a little stimulates, a lot stifles. One starts off with no knowledge, gains a little and being interested seeks out the new and so builds. And then the awareness starts to grow and the realisation that I'm simply not like these other people. I cannot bat out thousands of words an hour on all manner of fascinating subjects. My thoughts do not come in soundbites (albeit written). My life is not that interesting. I cannot compete. I cannot do everything. I cannot know everything. I cannot be perfect; and that always gets to me. I'm a perfectionist without quite enough patience. I'm competitive without ambition. I can recognise good, and know that it does not come via me. And I hate getting frustrated, and not even being on the same level as other people leads to inevitable frustration. So either I can get better or I can get out. And, after however many years of doing this, I can't keep playing the newbie card, so better won't happen. Out it is then.

This might not be the complete end of blogging, but it probably is the end of here. For some things I want more anonymity. For some things I want only those I know. Here is a mix; it's a place where the anonymous have become real people, who I can see, and even touch, and yet they still don't know me. They know too much and not enough.

So congratulations Dan. You may be sweet and occasionally charming (and on the other hand occasionally like me). You may have really good eyes (but judging from your Flickr profile image, you knew that already). You may be shorter than you look on television. You may be quite cool and yet endearingly geeky. But you killed my blog, damn you Dan.

So it's off to join the great and illustrious, to cultivate an air of mystery. Be good peeps. Dan stop Irishing and start Deutsching. Az stop trying to grow up; you're already older than you need to be. Neil stop maiming yourself; not even Wilde would have enough synonyms for carelessness or misfortune. And to the rest of my sidebar (most of whom are on hiatus anyway), stop worrying.

Bye.