My brother Jonathan says I blog a lot. Actually, what he said was, "Man, that's a lot of blogging."
OK, so maybe I do blog a lot. Particularly in comparison to poor Cousin Veronica. And it's true, I do update a lot more than Cousin Stacey or even Ye Olde Crawdaddy himself.
What's scary is that, in addition to the blogging, I write five to ten pages a day in a "real" notebook. You know, one of those spiral-bound things we used before we had electronic notebooks, text messaging, and palm pilots. I've been writing at least that much every day for, oh, the last twenty years or so.
I just can't help it. My brain gets over-run with words and thoughts and ideas, and if I don't "release" them by writing them down, my head will clog up and explode.
It's just like a terlit, only different. And the more I read fiction and listen to Bach, the faster my brain fills up, and the more I have to write.
So you see, I HAVE to flush--I mean blog--a lot. You wouldn't want my head to explode, would you, dear readers?
Nah. Didn't think so.
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