Introduction

No slick typefaces or formatting yet

Someone I know, likes to write a sort of diary on a typewriter with no connection to the internet. That is to assure that no one reads what she writes. She assures me that there is nothing embarrassing or scandalous or even interesting in what she writes. The purpose of this enterprise is to order one’s thoughts and thereby server as a form of psychotherapy. I get it. It works. But that’s not how I’m made. Writing, for me is always for someone else regardless of its therapeutic benefits for me.
While reorganizing things I encountered something written in small type dated 1987. It was fairly good writing, although it had some to criticize and cringe at. I had a lot of practice getting to that point. I had read Stunk and White’s The Elements of Style and other books on how to write. It was about five letters out of a series of 25, not sure if the rest still exist. They averaged 10, 8×10 pages each of typed, single spaced words. I had sent them to individual addresses, about 10, I think, maybe more. It was a way to connect in the days of expensive long-distance calls. Most of the friends that I had grown up with were living in another city. It was my first blog of sorts.
Next came email. Cass, a friend for a long time and sometimes wife up an emailed me in the “You’ve got mail days.” She was in Houston, and I don’t know where I was, some travel nursing assignment. It was an email, short, humorous and poetic. That started a frequent exchange of emails. I remember she was so clever in her writing that I really couldn’t match, but I enjoyed the process, nevertheless. Once we were together, she suggested that to communicate we should regularly retreat to separate corners and write to each other. Ironically, that was excellent advice, that I never followed.
Next, we enter the era of Facebook. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a wonderful tool. I spend a lot of time on it. I love to see photos of friends and acquaintances. I can share each one’s triumphs a little bit. But, recently, it’s been plagued by hackers. A couple of days ago, I got an email saying that someone had requested a change in password, but it wasn’t me. Routinely, I get requests from friends of friends who I don’t know. It took me more time than I care to admit figuring out that these were hackers. I unwittingly infected other accounts by clicking on a link in Facebook Messenger. Besides that, someone can leave an embarrassing or hurtful comment to a post on Facebook, which the person who posts can do little about. This has caused some of my friends to leave the platform. Then there’s the chasing after likes. Also, it tends to be photo based, and doesn’t fit me. I like photos, but I’m looking for a place to express myself in writing. I’m the guy who writes whole paragraphs of words. Facebook is not the platform for that. There are others like me, mostly over-educated boomers.
I never even considered Twitter, now known as X. Even before Elon Musk, I thought of Twitter as a cesspool. Limited to 280 characters, it attracts people who have trouble managing a sustained coherent thought.
Now, blogging