I'm Not Comparing This Blog To Renaissance Sculpture

Well, over the past few weeks I’ve gotten quite a few emails asking why I’m not blogging as often. The most vocal of these people has been my brother who apparently has a ritual involving the bathroom, my blog and his iPhone. To quote a conversation I had with him a few hours ago:

“Write something you fucker, I haven’t taken a shit in weeks.”

Well, I started to think why I haven’t been writing quite as much…and a large part of the reason is that since moving to the UK, the buffer between me, my family and most of my friends has shrunk from 3700 miles to zero.

Have you ever heard the expression that no artist is truly free until his parents are dead? Well, it’s true.

I mean, today we look at works of art like Michelangelo’s ‘David’ as timeless masterpieces… but you know that poor Michelangelo felt like shit when he was sculpting it.

Why? because he knew that at some point his mother was going to look at it and say “It’s nice…but did you have to sculpt him naked?” Or how his friends saw the statue’s tiny wink-wonk and asked him if he modeled it after himself.

 I guarantee that someone asked why a red blooded male would choose to sculpt a naked man.

My point is that even though I rarely write about anything properly embarrassing, I used to be able to write completely unselfconsciously. There’s no pretense in my posts. If you’re a long time reader, I can state categorically that you know me as well as anyone. In fact, if you’ve been reading since that first post in 2005, you probably know me better than a lot of my family and friends.

Of course, the other big thing is I’ve been writing posts for nearly seven years, and I’ve gotten to the point where I write a post only to realize halfway through that I’m not just repeating myself, I’m repeating myself for the fourth or fifth time.

Well, anyway, I’m not quitting and I’m still aiming to write as much as possible… but I don’t think I’ll be keeping up the same pace I was when I spent about 12 hours a day alone in my house.

Oh, and Andrew? If you’re that desperate for some bathroom reading material… buy a copy of my book you f**king cheapskate.