The Loneliest Place in the World is a Crowded Room

Mars Rover Tracks

Crikey I’m so alone in here.

I was just thinking this evening that I should check my last post to see the comments I had generated. I thought , since I was writing about something topical for a change I might get some responses - at least one angry American telling me that I suck or something.

You know I do spend a bit of time reading threads on other people’s posts every so often and I sometimes enjoy the banter that these conversations can get - you know. The web is set up to be a communal place. Everyone seems to now have an international voice and therefore, so can I!

But my blog. Well. It’s a secret isn’t it! My niece posted two comments right at the start I think – and that was only coz I told her to! Since then, I realise that this is my little secret place! – There must be hundreds of millions of people able to click on my little blog and read my entries – and yet almost no one does.

Of course, the point of writing clever and intellectual pieces is so that everyone else can enjoy them. You would think that I was a gifted poet, a wise and articulate wordsmith – well you would do, but you’re never going to read this are you!

I was supposed to get a wee ego boost around about now as you told me how cool I was.

Alternatively of course I would get the aforementioned and ubiquitous “you suck” response. But in this case I could launch a witty thread of dialogue making the whole thing a richer and more enjoyable cerebral romp. Hmmm

Instead I have nothing whatsoever. A blog wilderness.

I guess I better get used to my own company!

You know, the ironic thing is that, when I used to keep a detailed diary, I always wrote the entries with a view to making myself interesting for other people to read. I would never keep a secret diary. Didn’t see the point!

No one ever did read my diaries and, embarrassed at some of the subject matter years later, I tossed them out.

Now here I am - and history is repeating itself. Whereas before I was concerned that no one would read my oh so clever diaries because they were hidden in a cupboard in my bedroom, I have therefore taken to occasionally digitising my life and posting entries with a considerably wider audience capability – but see how I’m getting the same results!

Strangely though, there is something magical about a secret, yet public blog. And, let’s face it, I’m not as erudite and creative a writer as I would have you believe I am. So you’re really not missing that much after all.

Audiences only spoil the moment. For one thing they have their own opinions and bizarre agendas!

Years ago I used to be a London bus driver. It was the only time I worked closely with the public. I found these people to be wildly strange and illogical. Taking a cross section of generic folk as they walk on to a bus, one would find that the public, as a whole, could easily be catalogued as largely insane!

Not to say that the blog/web community are in any way comparable to the intellect of a standard Kilburn High Road bus commuter – but, having gone through a host of “Blogs of Note” on this e-blogger site alone I should point out (to only myself of course) that my romantic ideal of being a “blogger of the people” a sort of modern and witty Samuel Pepys is not really likely using my current track record as a yardstick. I’m just not dedicated enough to this one medium.

I shall buck my ideas up immediately. If I want recognition then I clearly have to earn it!

Actually, on second thoughts you know, I have nothing to prove.

This entry, like the rest of my blog is just as disposable as the diaries in my bedroom cupboard. Since I’m the only one going to read it, there’s hardly any point writing it, let alone posting it.

And yet……