The trouble with being more writer than blogger is that you forget to document the things you do, wear, see and instead, internalize those things by way of mental notes. Things to remember. Things to delve into later tonight. Things I want to forget, but can’t, because I have an urgent need to save everything in a notebook. Under any other circumstance, the ability to go sans iPhone would be considered positive—but in this instance, I’m left bereft of #content. For whatever reason, taking pictures mid-something or asking someone to capture the moment feels more navel-gazing than, say, journalling or having a blog. (Don’t try to convince my logic otherwise.)
All this is just to say that there’s nothing to see here. Just words, mostly meaningless stream of consciousness written on a Friday night in. Without photos, there’s nothing worth publishing… right? Is it because we’ve been trained to respond to catchy captions supplemented by a photo spread? Or worse, a hard truth: that without a series of pictures to grab your attention, my words alone are incapable of keeping an audience? My photography is amateur at best, but I use it as a crutch to write without really writing. To hopefully distract from my prose.
To the handful of people who still read this space: What do you respond best to?
. . .