For the time being

A Tale for the Time Being I stopped [blogging] a while ago. It made me sad when I caught myself pretending that everybody out there in cyberspace cared about what I thought, when really nobody gives a shit.[30] And when I multiplied that sad feeling by all the millions of people in their lonely little rooms, furiously writing and posting to their lonely little pages that nobody has time to read because they're all so busy writing and posting,[31] it kind of broke my heart.

 – Ruth Ozeki , A Tale for the Time Being, 25–26

A little while back, Alice Bradley over at Finslippy recommended Ruth Ozeki's A Tale for the Time Being, and so I clicked on over to the library and ordered a copy and now I am reading it and then, right on page 25, there was the quote above, which I read a couple evenings ago after a dinner of Catherine Newman's brown beef stew, the recipe for which she published on Ben & (oh, and you didn't notice, but right just then she sucked me into learning how to make felt blankets and now I'm thinking about heading on over to the Goodwill) and it was really, really good, even if my kids didn't think so, and I am pondering both run-on sentences as well as — on this 14th day of NaBloPoMo — the (for want of a better word) utility of blogging, and I think that this is it: that it makes me dinner and give me reading material and inspires me creatively and makes me keep coming back because I said it would.

And there you go — one more day down.

[30] "I never think anyone gives a shit," Oliver said. "Is that sad? I don't think it's sad."

[31] "once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding." — Milan Kundera, Book of Laughter and Forgetting, 1980.