Does the world need another blog?
I’m doing it anyway.
I blame Chuck Wendig, who keeps exhorting me, in his profane and exuberant way, to stop worrying about what anyone else may think and just do it. (Not that Chuck knows he’s exhorting me. We’ve never met. But he exhorts everyone. He’s an indiscriminate exhorter. If you want to get splattered with a little exhortation, check out his Terrible Minds blog.)
And so, this starts, with little focus, no concrete goals and a total lack of direction — just like most of the rest of my life.
But the one thing blogging offers is a glorious expanse of white, paper-like Intertubes space on which to write words. I haven’t written many words in the last few years. Entirely my own fault. So I’m going to rectify that. Somewhat regularly. Mostly (I hope) coherently. Totally for my own gratification.
I know I’ll have at least two readers. My wife, because I’ll pester her until she gives in. (I’m like a child that way.) My mother, because … well, she’s my mother. (I’m like a child that way, too.)
If anyone else wants to come along for the ride, welcome! I’ll be here semi-regularly with some semi-quality musings on anything that strikes my fancy, from sports business (my day job) to tennis, camping, hiking, TV binge-watching, beef brisket, video games and general geekiness about any new technology that comes along.
There have been many great artists (Van Gogh, for example.) (I think.) who were unappreciated in their time. If no one likes what I write here, it probably means that I’m a genius.