There has to be therapeutic benefits to starting afresh, anew, all over again. But unlike times past, there isn’t the fit of rage that was once required. You no longer have to burn everything in a large pile on the drive way, while dancing around in the nude. I’m sure your neighbours will be pleased to learn that thanks to technological innovations we can no have this “turning over a new leaf” moments in private, and with our clothes on.
But it isn’t quite the same, is it? Pressing select all, and then jabbing an enraged finger into a grubby computer mouse doesn’t have the same emotions attached to it as burning archive boxes in the front yard in the nude once did. But although I would happily conduct one of these burnings – with my clothes on, thank you – there isn’t anything to burn. The only remembrance of the former incarnation of this blog will now be hidden away in the deepest bowels of Google’s Blogger servers. Everything was digital, and the only way to destroy it didn’t involve fire. There was the possibility of subjecting the hard drives in the servers to extreme heat – by fire – but I live far too far away for server arson attacks, anyway. So that was purely out of the question.
What happened after these burnings in the front yard in the nude, though? You would have got a hose, doused the flames, and put your undies back on, wouldn’t you have? Then you would have sat down and begun again on the revised version of your memoirs, trying to keep a level head. Do I get any of that? No, I just get to start writing again. Here I am. Building up once more a blog that I might have to spread the flames of my mind across, and once more douse it with a rebirth of this very ilk. Until then, though, here we are.
January 16, 2013