Some of the blogs that I read regularly are clearly constructed with great love and detail, whether for public entertainment or personal pride. Others (and I include this site in the category) seem to be just thrown together like a snack taken on the run. No less diverting, y’understand, just less ‘crafted’.
But however much time and effort is put in, the ephemeral nature of the medium sees all postings relegated into the space at the bottom of your screen in a very short time. They’re all out there somewhere, safely stored in cyberspace, but like the stuff in your attic, they’re unlikely to ever make a worthwhile reappearance again.
The emotional value or content makes absolutely no difference whatsoever.
So listening (disgracefully, for the first time) to the
actual lyrics of Freda Payne’s classic, I was struck by the immediacy of the outpouring of feelings of rejection and humiliation – whether contrived or not - for the purpose of knocking out a pop song:
“Last night, on our honeymoon
We stayed in sep’rate rooms”
I wondered whether Freda ever imagined that her expose would live on for ever, if only by becoming the stuff of karaoke, or if she thought it would quickly disappear into the transient pop equivalent of the blogosphere.
Maybe my Comments box will provide a clue?
# posted by Mr.D. @ 4:06 PM
Drinking and Driving (but clearly not simultaneously)
