The Corpuscle

This blog is four months old this week. Lately, I'm not all that happy with the Blog Experience, and so starting today I am making some changes.

I named this thing "The Corpuscle" because (1) I've always loved that word -- the sound of it has just the barest suggestion of obscenity to it (wait, is there some sort of flesh involved here?), and (2) a long time ago it occurred to me that a human being was a little bit like a corpuscle -- one little guy, not too unlike all the other guys in the bloodstream, but different too -- different enough to have his own separate existence from all the other guys in the bloodstream, but not all that much extra special. We're all about the same color, after all, and we all have our little hemoglobin pits. Note the bloodstream at the top of this page. Note the single corpuscle riding the typewriter. Yeah, that would be me. Or, it's supposed to be me. What else do you need to know?

Well, here's one thing I'll tell you even if you don't need to know it. The blogosphere feels to me a little bit like a bloodstream too. There are red and blue corpuscles in the blogosphere, of course, and as we know they too specialize in conveying gas.

Lately, I've felt the little corpuscle on the typewriter sliding off a bit, slipping back into the indistinguishable flow. I don't like that feeling. I want to feel like a plucky little corpuscle, the little corpuscle that could!

I didn't read all that many blogs before I started this thing. Oh, I had a few that I would faithfully read. Well, more or less faithfully, if there can be such a thing as doing something occasionally with faith. However, since I started this thing I've felt compelled to read a certain set of blogs, compelled being the operative word here. The thing is, the plucky little corpuscle wanted to be up on what the rest of the bloodstream was bubbling on about, but he also didn't want to bubble in quite the same way all the other corpuscles were bubbling. He wanted to convey his own slightly different gas.

But then pretty soon the plucky little corpuscle started feeling like he had to post something as quickly as it occurred to him, lest some other corpuscle in the stream get to the idea first. To be different, it seems he feels he has to be rash. Sadly, when he gets like this, the little corpuscle is not just plucky, he's also a bit more gas than conveyance. And so the plucky little corpuscle has decided to get a better grip on his typewriter.

The first thing he has decided to do is cut back on the number of blogs he feels compelled to keep up with. He will mostly confine himself to blogs he genuinely enjoys reading for no other reason than the fact that he enjoys reading them. The really important information seems to get through anyway, no matter how few blogs he actually follows.

He hopes this cutting-back will have a doubly salutary effect: (1) He will be able to spend more time reading stuff that doesn't have anything to do with what all the other corpuscles are babbling  about, and (2) He will therefore be able to chill out on this compulsion he feels to post stuff quickly (as opposed to smartly).

The second thing he has decided to do is adhere to a posting schedule, albeit a somewhat loose one. I mention this strictly for the benefit of my readers who might want to take note of it. Generally speaking, the plucky little corpuscle is going to try to confine himself to roughly two posts a week. Should you have a date-book you like to fill up with these little tokens to the illusion that time actually exists, my schedule will be something like a new post every Thursday by 8:00 a.m. Eastern Time, and another new post every Monday by 8:00 a.m. Eastern Time. Actually I suspect (as is the case with this post) these Posting Moments will extend from about 8:00 p.m. the night before until the said morning times above. The hope is that by ruminating a bit longer between posts, the resulting cud may be somewhat more worthy of my time and yours.

Replying to comments will be on no schedule, of course, but will be practiced when and if the need seems present.

I have always been -- especially when playing with new toys -- pretty much a two-year old, and once I've smeared whatever new toy I've recently come across with all the peanut butter and jelly and marshmallow creme my childish hands can manage, I usually have to stop, take a breath, and tidy myself and the toy up a bit. The hope is the schedule I've decided to put myself on will help me do that.

And so the plucky little corpuscle intends to straighten up and fly right. Which, you know, corpuscles can't really fly or anything, but sometimes our little corpuscle likes to pretend he's got a bit-part in Fantastic Voyage, wherein it seems plucky little corpuscles really can fly, and maybe even believe in Faeries, too.

The End. Go to bed. And go to sleep when you get there. I've had it with you guys fooling around in there all night.

See you Monday morning (or, you know, maybe Sunday night).