I’m bored of blogging. I know this didn’t take me very long at all, and I didn’t get through even a twentieth of all the wonderful music I wanted to post (no The Organ, no Jackson C Frank, aah you’re missing out), but you guys are lousy.*
See I’ve just worked out how to track your every move on my blog. I know that today (i.e. Saturday- its only 9pm for me) so far 47 individual computers have been on it, with a grand total of 82 visits. (I think that’s every time you click on a new page, but I’m not sure.) I even know what country you’re reading it in. Yep honeeyz, its all very Orwellian.
I also know how much you click outbound links. Okay so the piece on the Famous Harlem Lesbians wasn’t popular, but you guys don’t even click on the songs! Bear in mind that the last song I posted I said I wanted to be played at my funeral. I said it was one of the best songs ever written. I said it was sung by Janis Joplin, and you all you were all completely informed of its wonderfully sexy name. I did a bit of analysis of the song to get you in the mood. I EVEN RELATED THE END OF THE POST TO VISITING THE CHELSEA HOTEL BEFORE I LEFT NEW YORK ONLY USING THAT SONG. That’s TRUE LIFE, kids, do you know how hard it is to string it into something coherent?
So the burning question on all of your tongues (I know you so well) is evidently, “How many people clicked on the Janis Joplin song? Out of those 47 people who went on my site, how many decided it might be worthwhile to even listen to the first 10 seconds. Well, patient reader, that question has an easy answer. 6. I don’t even know that means 6 people, in fact. The same person might have really liked the song, forgotten the name, and clicked on it 6 times. I mean, my parents are reading this, and they’re ancient.**
This is upsetting. This is particularly upsetting because the reason why I was always the one who had the parties was supposed to be at least partly because I have about 2 feet of vinyl that people claimed to want to listen to. I think owning Vinyl is disgustingly cliched, and many of my records are the kind of things that only a mother could love, but you kept coming. Now it starts to look like we had parties in my room for three reasons 1) I had a very large roof which you could all drunkenly chuck glasses off 2) My room was such a tip, if you completely wrecked it I was unlikely to notice and 3) I was the only person you knew who would probably drink the half drunk bottles of beer/wine in the morning, and you’re all terrifically concerned about wastage.
I understand that the fact the walls were beautifully adorned with a poster of Hesperus and Phosphorous about to get it on (oh the joys of studying philosophy) and an utterly shameless brag about how I played a hipster music festival when I was 15 might have influenced it. Yes and okay, I have the best parties, but I spent my life putting empty bottles in plastic bin bags (and yes, fine, I did check that they didn’t contain any last mouthfuls first.) My scout thought I was such a danger (at least partly because of the volume of bottles exiting my room) that she to0k an active interest in my sisters’ welfare when they came to stay with me, and suggested that they share a room with one of my friends instead.
I appreciate that my my writings are clearly brilliant and astoundingly interesting, but they are supposed to be accompanied by the music. In fact, without the title song, its hard to believe my ramblings about nothing much are of interest to anyone . But clearly you can’t even be bothered to click upon the Youtube URL that I so helpfully provided for you.
So I’ve concluded from all of this (what else can I conclude) that the real reason you all read my blog (including the guy in Brazil) is to check that I’m still alive. This is very sweet. I mean, most of you have had to tolerate me ranting about things for at least three years, for some of you lucky individuals it’s been something around 18. (No idea when kids start to speak), so clearly the most pressing issue is, will she live to rant another day? I’m not objecting, I’m just responding to feedback. So my blog is now morphing to resemble the “Is Thatcher Dead Yet” blog, but with the title “Is Catherine Papastavrou Brooks still alive?” In fact, I’m changing the title as soon as I can work out how to do it. (Help would be much appreciated.)
Anyway, you’ve all been fantastic. Don’t worry, you can still contact me in the usual fashion, i.e. after a two year wait.
*In this particular instance
** Just kidding. You’re youthful and sprightly, but the Aged Parent Trope is just too easy.