[Hi gang! I don’t wanna run a whole friggin’ website anymore, all I ever wanted was to make with the fake lies, yelling, and jokes that aren’t worth the legwork for the people, to be a simple blogger. To that end, you can now find me over at The Naming Way courtesy of the truly excellent Pika, alongside such Dudes of Quality as Jason and Brenden! It’s The Bageler will stay up until my subscription runs out next year and I’ll continue to cross-post until then; thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you over at my new pad!]
As the more remembery of you may recall, my pal who shall remain nameless and grumpy until he doxxes himself started a Pika of his very own specifically to criticize (in every sense of the word) The Naming Waydio, the playlist I curate specifically for this site and add a song to with every post. WELL TEXT YOUR MOM TO HEAD FOR THE STORM CELLAR ‘CAUSE HIS TALL ASS HAS DONE IT AGAIN, this time choosing a song he knew he’d like instead of one that he turned out to hate. He is a man of LAYERS, at least two, and he is peeling them away for all to see over there, it is scandalous. It’s also sincerely great, extremely thoughtful, hilarious writing, and every post just reminds me why we became pals, and it wasn’t just to increase our odds of survival in our terrifying German teacher’s class in college. Where have you gone, Frau Preschler, our nation turns its lonely eyes to you¹.
We spoke last night during our book club, and he mentioned that in addition to lambasting/lauding my musical taste, he’s planning to possibly put up some of the prose fiction he’s worked on over the years, and that led to a larger conversation about how when you have a place to say things, you’ll suddenly find that you have a lot more to say than you might’ve realized; I’m a well-known blog-bully, constantly cajoling everyone I know to get into the blogosphere—
—yeah like that, thanks Dr. Horrible, but I also realize that not everybody has something to say that would fit within the constraints of the format; mainly I just want to encourage people to express themselves and, if you haven’t found a way to do so that feels right, to keep searching until you find it and bring what only you can to the larger conversation.
Oh, look at my wrist, I have to go,
— C. W.
¹ …s-seriously, where is she, tell me somebody’s got eyes on her, tell me I don’t need to be prepared for her to spring from the shadows and demand I perform unnatural teutonic conjugations