onionbagblog
The Blog that Bit its' Own Arse
A few days of turmoil.
And if you are still harboring hopes that I've been censored by myself, as stated above, that's probably FIVE words too many than you logged on to read.
Basically I hit a blogging block over the past week. Some might say that I have been on the ropes for the past six months. Keeping a daily diary is definitely only for a pedant such as Mr Pepys. Or a freak / loner / egotist. With a few notable exceptions. Oh go on then, YOU, YOU, YOU and why not YOU as well?
Those that know me outside of the onionbag bollocks would probably note that I'm not the most open of people. This blog was never going to be a kiss and tell effort. Probably because I never really get to kiss, let alone tell the random five strangers that may be reading.
My life is pretty much South London sport, South London landmarks and the odd foray into the Big City when anything involving two wheels takes my interest. In terms of a target audience, it's not exactly Heat magazine, but bugger me, it has kept me busy for the past twelve months.
There has been a few success stories (blagging a weekly print column HERE) on the back of this blog. But now it has come to the stage where my South London sport, scenery and cycling exploits have pretty much dried up.
It's all calendar based bollocks anyway. This time last year I was banging on about the arrival of the Stockwell Christmas Tree. And whadya know, unlike the Lambeth Recycling collectors, true to form, it's been erected again right on cue this week. And that is it in an essence really. I sat down to write some shit about it and then thought, mmm, haven't we been here before?
In a few weeks time I will probably go to The Globe's Winter Fair. Like I did twelve months ago. The New Year will bring the ice hockey Play Off's. Like last year. And then when we hit the summer stride I can be found lazing around at The Lido in-between such Summer Season highlights such as the Stockwell Festival or the Lambeth Show.
You've read One Year in the Life of Loser, why the hell would you want to do it all over again?
I was also starting to resent spending my weekends watching AND WRITING about non-league football, basketball and hockey. Highly entertaining though they are. That's the watching and not the reading.
But you know I've become a little attached to these parts, if only for the reason that I've paid up in full for this ill advised domain name for TWO years. The messages of support that I have received in the past twenty four hours have been truly humbling and I thank you all.
And so here's how I THINK things might pan out...
I'm going to give the Crap Match Reports a bit of an early bath. No one was reading the buggers anyway. I'd much rather spend my Saturday afternoons becoming agitated as to how The Hamlet have slipped into a relegation battle than worry myself silly about whether it was the 69th or 70th minute when the fourth goal went in. Sadly this has meant that I have had to surrender the South London Press gig as most of the stuff there was a cut and paste effort from around here anyway (shhh, don't tell the nice fellas over at Streatham High Road).
So I reckon I'm going to keep on blogging, but blogging about what I'm not exactly sure. Maybe I could become a Belle confessional? But would you really want to read about how I was once a very mucky pup as I spent a whole week getting my hands dirty building my own bike?
Quality not quantity of course, which really screws me up as I can bash them out with the best of them (on a KEYBOARD that is), but much like the masturbating metaphor, the quality is a bit hit and miss, not to mention messy.
So in summary, I may or may not be as regular as a bowl of Bran Flakes. No more non-league nonsense. Plenty of pics. Same old shit subject matter. If nothing else, a compare and contrast exercise of how the Brixton Windmill Festival of 2004 measures up to the 2005 effort may give you an insight into how limited my vocabulary and memory is.
I think that has been what is known as a Crisis of Confidence. It happens to me in my everyday life and maybe blogging was originally a means to escape it. Blogs will eat themselves of course and any blog that simply bangs on about blogging per se is a load of bollocks to me. Tell me something I don't already know, and not endless navel gazing about how blogs will change the world.
Better scratch this entire post then.
Yes, I've been a bit of a knobber, haven't I? This is probably as personal it gets. Back to business as usual. Bet you can't wait to read about Critical Mass on Friday...
| Thursday 25 November, 2003 |
A few days of turmoil.
And if you are still harboring hopes that I've been censored by myself, as stated above, that's probably FIVE words too many than you logged on to read.
Basically I hit a blogging block over the past week. Some might say that I have been on the ropes for the past six months. Keeping a daily diary is definitely only for a pedant such as Mr Pepys. Or a freak / loner / egotist. With a few notable exceptions. Oh go on then, YOU, YOU, YOU and why not YOU as well?
 A Year in the Life of a Loser... |
My life is pretty much South London sport, South London landmarks and the odd foray into the Big City when anything involving two wheels takes my interest. In terms of a target audience, it's not exactly Heat magazine, but bugger me, it has kept me busy for the past twelve months.
There has been a few success stories (blagging a weekly print column HERE) on the back of this blog. But now it has come to the stage where my South London sport, scenery and cycling exploits have pretty much dried up.
It's all calendar based bollocks anyway. This time last year I was banging on about the arrival of the Stockwell Christmas Tree. And whadya know, unlike the Lambeth Recycling collectors, true to form, it's been erected again right on cue this week. And that is it in an essence really. I sat down to write some shit about it and then thought, mmm, haven't we been here before?
In a few weeks time I will probably go to The Globe's Winter Fair. Like I did twelve months ago. The New Year will bring the ice hockey Play Off's. Like last year. And then when we hit the summer stride I can be found lazing around at The Lido in-between such Summer Season highlights such as the Stockwell Festival or the Lambeth Show.
You've read One Year in the Life of Loser, why the hell would you want to do it all over again?
I was also starting to resent spending my weekends watching AND WRITING about non-league football, basketball and hockey. Highly entertaining though they are. That's the watching and not the reading.
But you know I've become a little attached to these parts, if only for the reason that I've paid up in full for this ill advised domain name for TWO years. The messages of support that I have received in the past twenty four hours have been truly humbling and I thank you all.
And so here's how I THINK things might pan out...
I'm going to give the Crap Match Reports a bit of an early bath. No one was reading the buggers anyway. I'd much rather spend my Saturday afternoons becoming agitated as to how The Hamlet have slipped into a relegation battle than worry myself silly about whether it was the 69th or 70th minute when the fourth goal went in. Sadly this has meant that I have had to surrender the South London Press gig as most of the stuff there was a cut and paste effort from around here anyway (shhh, don't tell the nice fellas over at Streatham High Road).
So I reckon I'm going to keep on blogging, but blogging about what I'm not exactly sure. Maybe I could become a Belle confessional? But would you really want to read about how I was once a very mucky pup as I spent a whole week getting my hands dirty building my own bike?
Quality not quantity of course, which really screws me up as I can bash them out with the best of them (on a KEYBOARD that is), but much like the masturbating metaphor, the quality is a bit hit and miss, not to mention messy.
So in summary, I may or may not be as regular as a bowl of Bran Flakes. No more non-league nonsense. Plenty of pics. Same old shit subject matter. If nothing else, a compare and contrast exercise of how the Brixton Windmill Festival of 2004 measures up to the 2005 effort may give you an insight into how limited my vocabulary and memory is.
I think that has been what is known as a Crisis of Confidence. It happens to me in my everyday life and maybe blogging was originally a means to escape it. Blogs will eat themselves of course and any blog that simply bangs on about blogging per se is a load of bollocks to me. Tell me something I don't already know, and not endless navel gazing about how blogs will change the world.
Better scratch this entire post then.
Yes, I've been a bit of a knobber, haven't I? This is probably as personal it gets. Back to business as usual. Bet you can't wait to read about Critical Mass on Friday...
| #permalink |
