As you can see, I'm slowly leaving the demographic for killing myself, just as others inform me that the sex is getting better. This is the joy that people share with me when I get older.
I've been running this blog since 2002 (started it in February, but didn't really figure on making it public until the end of that year). That's a lot of blogging, really; and I've managed to do it nearly daily. In that time I've finished a PhD, had a few breakups, gone a few places, made some friends, bought myself a small digital camera to assault all good photography standards, snagged myself a bit of an audience, and gone from somewhere over a dozen or so short fiction publications to something just under fifty. I've even got two books coming out, one of which came entirely out of this blog. I don't pay much attention to the numbers shit in fiction since, really, you might publish a lot, but if the work you're doing is in sub-par venues and is in itself not real interesting, what does it matter? I'm always wary of the writers you meet whose claim to fame is the number of stories published, but that's me, and I know a few who list it down who aren't writing badly. Still, I only noticed the number cause I had to work myself up a detailed list of publications for my CV, and that is the kind of thing you note; I also noted at the same time how many pieces are worthless as work (pretty much everything published before 2001).
Anyhow, during the growth in that, and the general life grind, I've blogged. Maybe it has helped. I imagine it has, really. But I've liked the growth in audience here, and the suicide chart that B (exp_err) put here admist the conversation of better sex and dope smoking trolley riding girls just reminded me of that. So much of this thing gives me a laugh and makes it fun and I'm always learning little bits of things and from people I mostly never met.
It's all cool here.