Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Blogosphere Crasher

Photo by Frank DiCesare (www.frankdicesarephoto.com)
After 18 years of professional writing, I’ve decided to suit up, splash on some cheap aftershave, and crash the blogging party.

Yes, I’ve arrived late, perhaps ridiculously late. But despite my tardiness (a noun that reminds me of the ruler-wielding nuns of my childhood), I haven’t shown up empty-handed. I’m here with what I hope is the online equivalent of a bouquet of roses, a love letter written in iambic pentameter, and a bottle of Château Mouton Rothschild 1982. So don’t dim the lights on me yet.

I have no excuse for my blogging absence and you can forget about an explanation. To explain why I haven’t blogged over the years would be to explain why fools fall in the love. It's real pedestrian stuff, so I’ll spare you the facts.

I have not, however, spent the past decade eating bananas in a cave. I know what a blog is and why they’re written and published online. I know all about the many kinds of blogs out there and how some bloggers have gotten book deals and how others are the go-to experts on Fox News and how a select few have parlayed their blogs into making $3,000 to $5,000 a week in their pajamas and on and on and on. Heck, I’ve even contributed to a blog or two in my time.

So while I may stumble a bit at the outset, I think I’ll be okay. I won’t need any visual aids; no drawings of stick figures typing on a computer keyboard with steam coming out of their heads. I won’t need anyone to speak slowly to me about blogging or teach me about the blogosphere by omitting syntax: Frank learn blogosphere! Frank write good blog! Frank learn fast!

At this point you’ve probably guessed that I have no delusions of grandeur with this blog. I know how hard it is to get followers online. My 1,100 Twitter followers might be just enough to invade Liechtenstein. My Facebook stats are even more anemic: If friends were counted as wins I’d have just enough to beat out the ’62 Mets.

I don't have an angle for this blog, which is one of blogging’s cardinal sins (to continue with the nun motif). But I’m an honest sinner who loves to write. Maybe I’ll write about honest sinning. 

And what's in an angle? Does the Web really need another recipe for pumpkin spice muffins? I can't cure your golf slice with one easy move. I have no business giving people advice on their mid-caps. I don't know the top 10 places to get a men's haircut in Brookline, Massachusetts.

I like to travel, but I’m not interested in launching a travel blog. (The blogosphere is busting out of its britches with individuals writing constantly about the food they ate at exotic location X.) I may, however, crash that party on occasion. If I travel and something interesting happens, I’ll share it. If not, I’ll post something so pretentious that only English majors who can't get dates will understand it. Fair enough?

I call this blog "Scribbles" because it's punchy, easy on the eyes, self-deprecating, and endearing. My original title was "The Yuppies of Hy-Brasil."

So consider this post an introductory run-through, a discordant series of backstage scales, or the initial offering of an amateur watercolor artist. The lights are dimming now. The party’s breaking up. Time for this crasher to head on home.


8 comments:

  1. I'm certain whatever you write will be interesting and entertaining.

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  2. Great job, Frank. Before you know it, blogging will be an easy "habit."

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  3. How disappointing. I specifically tuned in to find out where to get a haircut in Brookline, Massachusetts. Lol

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  4. That's assuming, Jim, you'd want to pay Brookline, Mass. prices for a men's hair cut. I'm sure your Greater Buffalo barbers can get the job done!

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