Whatever Happened to BMO Easy?
Last year one of the more barbaric yawpers … gotta thank the Dean campaign for bringing Whitman home there … someone we counted on to “Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs” was Brian Moffatt. (That’s my free American jazz movement allusion for today. If anyone asks you where “kick out the jams” comes from, you now have the Whitman reference).
Brian quit blogging in December. Shadows of his blog remain in Google cache.
A few days ago I was whining about lack of access to the gated community that is Orkut and all three of the people I pestered for an invitation were willing to let me in, but then the thing went down and I had to wait. I think I might owe Turner US$9.95 since I asked him for an invitation before I found out there were people willing to do it for free.
When they finally lifted the red velvet rope and the doorman discovered that indeed, my name was on the list and there was no reason for me to wait outside scuffling in the pigeon poop any longer, one of the first things I did was comb through my address book to be sure there would be people like me inside. I inquired of Brian and since I had him on the line so to speak, I asked him what happened to his blog. His response was of course worth sharing, because he’s a flaming genius. Here it is:
Truth be told, I only pulled the blog because my family demanded it! I have to admit I was getting a little carried away with it. My children need some attention. Which, again, truth be told, they’ve now been getting. To my everlasting benefit and joy.
As well, I could see that I was ‘wanting’ to write something a little more satiric. The last three posts I wrote were complete fabrications – valid as far as I was concerned – but I felt something of the charlatan, especially regarding the comments people were leaving. I had no intention of embarrassing anyone, but felt I had.
Plus Mike Golby wrote to say that my comments box wasn’t working properly.
Plus my web host and domain name were both up for renewal and I couldn’t justify the expense. Especially around Christmas.
Plus I was thinking that I might try my hand at finishing off a novel I’d abandoned a few years ago. (Why I persist in that delusion – a novel about delusion – I know not. In fact there might be a novel in that. A novel about a deluded wannabe novelist persisting in writing a novel about delusion -
reminds me of the Confessions of Zeno by Italo Svevo, the protagonist going on incessantly about his last cigarette)
Plus the house…