nobody but me

When I started this here blog, I was hoping I could create some kind of cultural phenomenon. I wanted my words to be read, to be interpreted and to be talked about. I soon discovered that nobody wants to read subjective stream of conscious ramblings about this and that. I don't pretend to have my ear to the street or my finger on the pulse of whatever is new and hip--I'm too unfocused for that. Writing is cathartic for me, it's an outlet. And while it'd be cool if other people did get something out of it, I'm not heartbroken that nobody reads the transcribed gas of all my brain farts. So why do I even put it out there in interweb-land if nobody's gonna see it? I don't know. I guess I'm just clinging to the hope. Because really, nobody can do the shing-a-ling like I do. Nobody can do the skate like I do. Nobody can do the boogaloo like I do. Nobody can do the philly like I do.