I imagine all first posts on a blog to be incredibly dull. They probably include something by way of introduction. They’re quite possibly just a ramble of words strung together in order to test to see if such prose will magically become coherent upon hitting the ‘Publish’ button. A test. To see if this hip 21st Century method of communication actually works. And then you spend the next two days watching the hits counter, mistaking the steady increase for the number of times you’re actually visiting said blog yourself. You await with baited breath for your first subscriber. You might even set up a separate profile and subscribe to yourself, to ‘set the ball rolling’. It never rolls. Your second post is probably worse than the first. You had a period of time from birth to first post to write about, possibly provoking many interesting stories. Next time out, the window is reduced to the period of time between your first post and your now pathetic second. And all you’ve done that is remotely interesting is bought Halo 6.
The blog confuses your mind. In typing it, your sense of what is interesting and what is not becomes diluted. The little man in your brain who is supposed to tell you that the graphics of Halo 6 are not as fascinating to the one man and his dog reading your description has gone on holiday. Replacing him is Ego, who forgets to mention the interesting insight into life (that you would have got if you were paying attention) from your exchange with the freckled girl at the game store.
And so, I end here. Not wanting to write too much, not for fear of anaesthetising the reader; more for fear that when I click this orange button below there will come up some unexplained error and all my flowing rhetoric will be consigned to some black hole in cyberspace.