Corvid here. Yes, this is my bright idea, and I think I just about have Sasha talked into it. If his words show up here, then we will know, won't we?
Why? I don't know. I guess because I like to write. I like Sasha. I like to talk to Sasha. I had an idea that I may like to write with Sasha. The rest, as they say, is a trainwreck.
I think this blog will have the potential to be fun, or mortifying. I will find out what he really thinks and be scarred for life, or it will be boring and we will drift off to other things. Or I will be a font of American Inanity and he will tell me what he really thinks and I will be scarred for life. Or his kvetching will get to me and I will tell him what I really think, and he will tell me what he really thinks.. and you know what happens next.
Maybe we will write about real things. Scary things. Hurtful things. Wonderful things. Ordinary things.
I am a little nervous about doing this, and very interested. I haven't nearly gotten a handle on Sasha yet. So much of the time he seems very much like me. We talk in the same language, we share the same ideas, we like the same things. But then a few words, just a few words... a phrase... and I can see that this is my own construct, and it's wrong. Not to say we are radically different... but in some things we are, well... radically different. It's strange because there is suddenly this wide space between us called "the world," and "culture," and "virtual reality," and,"life experience," and, "etc."
But I imagine he is someone I could be friends with. I imagine he is someone I would like to sit down in a cafe with, and drink coffee and argue and wave arms and gesticulate wildly. I imagine knowing his family, his lovely wife and children. Laughing. Friendship. I am sentimental like that.
I am hoping this will be about honesty.
I always stumble into these things with a child like sense of wonder and excitement. I have a feeling there is some lacerating wit out there just waiting to set me straight. I sincerely hope so.
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