His blogness (the administrator) posted (as in stuck through the letterbox) the following document earlier today. It was discovered by our hero (look, we all know that when it says ‘our hero’ or ‘the blogger’, we’re talking about the same person. So from now on he will be referred to as ‘K’ – not to be confused with Kafka’s ‘K’ – OK?) when he stumbled downstairs to make his first mug of coffee of the day, and to see if anyone had sent him anything interesting – Lakeland catalogue, party invitation, OBE. This document was not what he expected and quite put him off his morning exercise routine (bend down, pat dog, look at exercise bike, drink coffee), leaving him feeling somewhat irritable and out-of-sorts.
Here is reproduced faithfully the text of the document.
Rules and Regulations of the Blog Commonly Known As ‘Dive for your Memory’
To be read and agreed to by all those who contribute to the aforementioned blog
- All posts shall abide by the blog remit inasmuch as the topics discussed shall fall under one (or more) of the following headings: Books, Music, Addiction and Recovery.
- Any posts which do not abide by the above remit, insofar as it refers to the permitted headings, will be adjudged by the blog administrator (hereinafter referred to as the blog admin), to be outside the terms of these rules and regulations and will be dealt with appropriately.
- In the event of any dispute, contretemps or disagreement the blog admin’s decision will be final.
- There will be no exemptions for bloggers who believe they are above the law.
- These rules to take effect immediately.
K read the document while drinking his coffee. He sat and thought for a while, in his Ikea prfotfoo chair, bent down, patted the dog, looked at the exercise bike, then put on his dog-walking shoes (Clarks, no laces, thirty-odd quid) and walked out of his house, down his front path (even more dead leaves, even more empty crisp packets), and walked the 375 yards to his blogness’ house. Once there he pulled violently at the tatty dressing gown cord which served as some sort of bell pull, causing a sound a bit like a bell to ring somewhere behind the door and the tatty dressing gown cord to come off in his hand. He hastily threw it into a bunch of nettles which grew conveniently near the door and waited. And waited.
Eventually he heard the shuffle of feet and, after the drawing of innumerable bolts, the door slowly opened, to reveal the blog administrator in all his dishevelled glory.
Blog Administrator: (peering suspiciously from the darkness) Yes? Oh, it’s you.
K: Indeed it is. I need a word.
BA: (bear with me, it’s easier to type) I doubt it.
BA: I said I doubt it – that you need a word. Several thousand more like.
K: Oh. Right. Well, I wanted to talk to you about this (pulling the screwed up list of rules from his leather satchel (don’t ask, just take it as being part of K’s image as a modern, go-ahead blogger).
BA: (pulling his dressing gown more tightly round him) You’d better come in.
K followed the blog administrator into his living room (if you could call it living), a small, heavily draped room containing an obviously expensive black leather recliner with matching footstool, two mismatched dining chairs and a cheap pine desk. Everywhere were piles of books, papers and magazines. The blog administrator motioned for K to sit down. K moved towards the recliner but, at a look from the blog administrator, turned aside, moved a pile of old National Geographic magazines from one of the dining chairs to a fairly empty patch of carpet, and sat down.
BA: Well. Get on with it.
K: It’s like this your blogness.
BA: (firmly) No!
BA: No. Not ‘your blogness’. Or ‘Mighty One’ or any other of your terms of abuse.
K: So what do I call you?
BA: Sir will do. And no, before you say it, I don’t mean call me ‘sir will do’. Just sir.
K: Understood. So what’s with all these new rules? I thought the whole idea was to just go with the flow, let it all hang out, that sort of thing.
BA: And where, pray, did you get that idea? (At the word ‘that’ his dressing gown fell open, revealing an off-white (very off-white) string vest and pair of matching long-johns. He hurriedly pulled the dressing gown back round him and reached in vain for the missing cord. Eventually he gave up and held the two sides together with a bony fist)
K: I don’t know. I just thought that was the point of having a blog, somewhere you could put down whatever you wanted, whatever you were thinking about at the time. You know, a sort of diary type of thing, except you let anybody read it. Isn’t that what we’re doing.
BA: Actually we’re not doing anything. The setup is, and let me make this very clear, the setup is that I administer the blog, which means I decide what goes on it and what doesn’t, and you write stuff, appropriate stuff, stuff that is about books and music and…..
K: I know, and addiction and recovery. I’ve written about them, lots of times.
BA: You’ve hardly written anything about books.
K: Alright. So I could write more about books. But I’ve written plenty about music. And addiction. And recovery. And I’ll be writing more about all of them.
K: Soon. It’s just that there’s other things I want to write about.
BA: Then, as I’ve said before, start another blog.
K: But I haven’t time.
BA: You haven’t time! What else do you do? All you do is write the odd post and sit around listening to that weird music you like. You’ve got plenty of time.
K: No I haven’t. And it’s not weird. Just cos you like all that A.O.R. rubbish doesn’t give you the right to ….
K: Yes. Admin Oriented Rock. You know, Bachman Turner Overdraft and Blue Oyster Card and that sort of thing.
BA: (with an edge of irritation) And what, may I ask, is wrong with classic 70s stadium rock? At least it’s not full of all that twiddly, twiddly, ning, ning noise that you try to say is music.
K: Oh, you wouldn’t understand. I could sit here for ever trying to explain……
And so it goes on, two worlds with little in common, spinning around a common centre of gravity (the blog), with neither one able (or dare I say willing) to push the other out of orbit.
We may come back to this at some point, or probably we’ll just leave it to spin on it’s usual pointless trajectory, coming to no agreement, reaching no accord, in short going nowhere.