CARE AND FEEDING

Getting an online diary* is kind of like getting a new plant or a digi-pet. You must care for it. You must feed it with words and keep its cage clean of fetid clichés. You must comb out the poor grammar that clings to its fur like ticks and burs. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about it at work. Sometimes you write its name on a piece of paper and doodle hearts around the periphery like a band of herding sheep dogs. And then there are times when it’s scratching at the base of your bedroom door, mewling because it wants to go outside. But you just want to laze about in bed all day, naked, reading books and drinking coffee. So you ignore it. You pretend you can’t hear it. That does not necessarily make you a bad person.

* You will never catch me calling this slice of cyberspace a blog. Blog is an ugly word and I am already resentful about having to type it twice. Incidentally, there are some other words that begin with the letter “B” that I also find repugnant. Boot, for example, and all of its snaggletooth, inbred relatives: boots, booty and bootless.