Everyone has a blog these days. Seriously, you can’t go five feet along the virtual highway without tripping over someone’s list of badly-written poetry, a really bitchin’ series of personal essays and articles about gaming or literature (or travel or cooking or eight billion other hobbies and activities), weblits and blogfics, or journalling communities established so people can come together as a group to bitch about shit and share porn.
Since I was a teenager, I’ve been hearing that the world has become a global village. Zimbabwe might as well be next door, with the communicative, informative, connective qualities of the Internet. Australia is down the street hosting a barbecue (Must have barbecues on the brain. Jesus, what is my neighbour cooking out there? I smell herbs and spices and roasting bread… God I’m hungry now…) in the middle of a snowstorm. Did you see the kangaroo being chased by the lion in the community park? Watch out for those reindeer herders — they owe the Bushmen some money, and they’re getting shirty about it. Also, France is having all sorts of questionable types over til all hours of the night, we’ll need to keep an eye on them.
Alright, so maybe it isn’t quite as ridiculous as that, and maybe my idea of a village is a little skewed.
Where was I again?
No, wait. That wasn’t it.