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Last night I told Chris Ziegler, who’s in town because Dios were playing and he’s on tour with them hawking their merch*, that I’d created the much debated blog. He seemed upset. Chagrined. Disappointed. “But if you have musings you need to share why not just call me up and tell them to me?” he asked. I explained that thus far, the musings were simply about musing on a blog, and were there no blog there’d be no musings. He requested a shoutout. He also mentioned ouroboros. I laughed an insufferable laugh. I can’t spell ouroboros.

* When asked “what is this CD?” by a potential customer on the last tour Chris actually responded, “What isn’t this CD really?”

Did you ever have that excited feeling when you were a kid and you got a new pet and you went to sleep the first night the pet was there knowing when you woke up the new pet would still be there and maybe you woke up in the middle of the night and forgot for a second and then remembered and it made you smile?

I wondered last night if this blog at all would be like that, even in the slightest way. Not so much.

I can’t believe I’ve now joined the ranks of the bloggers, but here I am. I expect I’ll be changing this template soon as there’s only so long I can hang with the sanitary napkin box look. Is everyone’s first post about their first post? Also, whilst staring in the mirror, I worry somehow that naming this blog after myself is gauche, declase, not done, lame, egomaniacal and yet naming it something wry, coy and clever would just be dishonest, like trying to mask narcissism with a saucy band-aid. And it is narcissism, all this writing and whatnot. Because it wouldn’t really be about a tempest in a teapot. Or critical mass. Or something lifted from a TS Eliot poem. Or something lifted from pop culture. Or something ironic and postmodern, which were the other options. You know?