Alt85 totally blows, now. [UPDATED]

a room in my dream home (via)

Dude, check the fucking roster or whatever it's called—the "Blog Archive." Nine posts in April, five posts in March...as I write this, 39 in 4½ months. In 2010* it was 230! In 2009 it was 350! Gone from up around once a day all the way down to a creaky, dregsy once a week! Oh, I could offer excuses, but you don't care why. (You also don't care that, most of you. Most of you—if I'm reading Google Analytics right—are here because you were looking for gay sex and came upon this.† Sorry to disappoint!)

I will say this, though, while I've got you here: I'm reading three books, right now. Three! At once! That's fucking nuts! There's something wrong with me! I recognize that this is normal for most people, to have several books that they're theoretically in the middle of reading at any one time, but it is not normal for me. In fact, I see it as a corollary(?) to my not reading at all. I'm reading Tina Fey's book when I go out, Michael Showalter's book when I'm on the toilet, and David Foster Wallace's book when—well, I don't know when. Never? I'm 182 pages into it, but I read all that when I was in New York City a while ago. In New York City I read; in Los Angeles, not so much.‡ The good news, at least, is that I'm happy about all three books: back when I read like a motherfucker, being happy with whatever book I was reading made me like my life more even when I wasn't reading—that part, at least, is true still today.

OK, but that had nothing to do with anything. Here's something that does have to do with anything: whether it's that Alt85 has actually gotten worse or just that it has gotten sparser, the effect is the same, at least for me—because turning out a blog post almost every day took the pressure off to make sure each one was "OK" (see George McFly syndrome), which freed me up in a way that I think made the whole thing better. I mean, people seemed to like it. I can't imagine anyone likes it now—especially since the only thing that tends to motivate me now to shit out an Alt85 post is something that annoys me, which means Alt85 has become a grouchfest. Or was that always true? Or is this false modesty? Or should you shut your House of Pie hole?

God, I decided a while back not to do this kind of shit anymore, this "Whither Alt85?" spacewaste. Oh, well. Maybe I'll get back "on it" and make this blog good again. (But I sort of said that about the Factoids, and where did that get anyone?) Anyway, in the meantime (or forevermore), here's a 95% unrelated photograph of Samuel Beckett with his cats.§

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* Pronounced "twenty ten," remember.
† That's not fair. Some of you were looking for "Sasha Grey anal."
‡ A bit of a trick, there: a lot of that shit I read on the airplane there and back. But still.
§ IMPORTANT UPDATE: One of those cats is a dog. Classic Beckett!