I better start writing a blog again.

I like writing with my fountain pens.  But honestly, they can be kind of a pain.  And anything that is an obstacle to me writing is something I need to avoid at the moment.  Not to mention, I like writing on a computer for things like poetry, because I do a bunch of edits before I even have a first draft.  With a lot of poetry, or even with prose, I have no idea what I am writing about until I have gone back to the beginning and started over a few times.

So, it's time for me to start blogging again.

During my senior year of high school, I used to joke that I would not live to be 30.  Some of those jokes got pretty morbid.  At the time, I had never touched a drop of alcohol, but insisted that I would drink myself to death before I hit 30 because so many of my favorite authors died of alcohol related illnesses.  Dylan Thomas, James Joyce, Ernest Hemmingway, Edgar Allen Poe, Jack Kerouac, William Faulkner, Charles Bukowski.  Really, some of the greats.  But generally a bunch of a assholes, too, with maybe a couple exceptions.

Well, I'm going to be 30 on Friday, and all signs point towards me making it, barring a terrible car accident or other unforeseen tragedy.  I did my share of heavy drinking, but not nearly my share of heavy writing.  And, as most of the best authors I listed insisted, drinking and writing do not really coexist.  At the moment, I think I'll take a cue from them and try to keep a clear head while I struggle to distill all the madness of my 30 years on earth into something worth reading.