Wednesday, August 18, 2010

I'm like Ernest Hemingway, in that I overuse untagged dialogue and view women mainly as sex objects and/or scenery.

"Naomi, we need to talk."

"...Jesus? Is that you?"

"No, it's me. Your blog."

"Oh. Heeeey, Blog. I was totally just going to click over to you."

"Were you, Naomi? Were you really?"

"Well...yeah, I mean...I was going to comment on someone else's blog. That's pretty much the same thing, right? You use the same login and everything."

"Don't bullshit me."


"It's been a while."

"Yeah, I've been pretty busy. School, you know."

"You were too busy going to school for writing to write in your blog?"

"Okay, well, I can see where you would think that's a lame excuse, but I was doing this big paper, and it was a group project, so I was writing a lot of emails, and then I got know, I wrote about all of this on Twitter."

"Don't talk about that website around me! You know how I feel about microblogging!"

"Okay, sorry! Sheesh. I guess now isn't the best time to mention I've been thinking about getting a Tumblr account."


"Forget I said anything. Look, blog, I'm sorry I've been neglecting you. I really am. I miss writing for fun. I miss posting pictures on you of cool things that I do. I even miss pretending I hate myself for shamelessly promoting you on Twi- on other websites. The thing is, you're a habit. I fell out of writing, and I want to fall back in. I miss you Blog, I really do."
"I miss you too, Naomi. I want us to be close again."

"Me too. 
"Hey, Blog?"

"Yes, Naomi?"

"Are you picturing me wearing a trenchcoat and holding a boombox playing Peter Gabriel above my head?"

"Of course."

"I love you, Blog."

"I love you too, Naomi."

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