The Long and Short of It
I miss Hysterical Paroxysm. Where did you go?
Tonight, inspired by God knows what kind of masochism, I attempted to backtrack through all the Tumbling I’ve missed. Probably 20 days or so of it.
Around page 62 (you people post a LOT), I spotted ms. sparklingpants’ question. (Howdy, NYC neighbor!)
Readers — the few of you left past last call and lights up, anyway — you deserve an apology and an explanation.
The short of it:
[img via Matthew Johnston…and GTA 4]
I’ve been toiling away in my tower at a new job. Actually, toil isn’t the right word, since I happen to love it.
And: My better half The man I love more than anything I have ever seen or imagined on Earth moved across the country to this city.
The long of it?
It’s a little complicated, and more than a little too late (or early) to parse out, but I think a combination of these two quotes might help explain my hiatus.
1. “Y’know those idiot teenagers who show up late on Halloween with no costume demanding free candy? Yeah. That’s pretty much the internet now.”
— Merlin Mann
and
2. “Everything that was said to me I seemed to have heard before, and I could no longer listen. I could no longer sit in little bars near Grand Central and listen to someone complaining of his wife’s inability to cope with the help while he missed another train to Connecticut. I no longer had any interest in hearing about the advances other people had received from their publishers, about plays which were having second-act trouble in Philadelphia, or about people I would like very much if only I would come out and meet them. I had already met them, always. There were certain parts of the city which I had to avoid. I could not bear upper Madison Avenue on weekday mornings (this was a particularly inconvenient aversion, since I then lived just fifty or sixty feet east of Madison), because I would see women walking Yorkshire terriers and shopping at Gristede’s, and some Veblenesque gorge would rise in my throat. I could not go to Times Square in the afternoon, or to the New York Public Library for any reason whatsoever. One day I could not go into a Schrafft’s; the next it would be the Bonwit Teller.”
— “Goodbye to All That,” Joan Didion
However, much like Joan Didion would eventually return to New York, I cannot stay away from my online pursuits for too long.
I think I’m mostly finished with my maple-lemon-cayenne Master Blogging Cleanse. Prepare for a full-on Renee Zellweger-preparing-for-a-new-Bridget Jones-movie-style internet binge.
I’ve missed you, too.
