When someone doesn’t blog for ages, then reincarnates with an opening line apology of why – it really shits me. I don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter. You’re back now and that’s good enough for me.
So, my absenteeism from writing in general is not owing an apology. But I do need to tell you this back story to the return, as a writer or reader yourself it is relevant.
There are those in the Blog world that follow you. A few you depend on to back you. I’ve known a couple of great incognito writer egos along the way. They had my back, and, to be fair, I had theirs. I didn’t share the friendship outside of the Blog world and I didn’t want to. I didn’t need to know them casually. It was friendship built on writing and sharing the experience of being one in a pool of a million. Still, it gave me a kick to know a peer was on the ride.
So, when my most recent post did not even gauge off the deadbeat scale I was perplexed. Worse still my blog buddies all but gone. Fair enough, it’s been two years. I deserved it. Except for one. It didn’t feel right. He was not the sort of human to ignore you, just because, well you know….a couple of years….
So I went looking for him.
His blog was still there, but not updated.
Odd in itself, for a courageous and dedicated writer.
It’s not uncommon for blogs and bloggers to drop off as life gets in the way of your craft . He was, after all, on the verge of making it big. He had published and was actually selling books, interviews, media – people were interested in him. It was a full time job. He was a ‘real’writer – who could blame him for leaving me behind ?
Still, it was odd. I didn’t think he would strike me off……I think he enjoyed hanging with me as much as I him. He was smart, you know, higher level arty stuff. A thinker. A creator.
I googled his name. Nothing.
I googled words that might connect with him…and then, there it was.
His tribute obituary.
The first whack was his name. Ben wasn’t his real name. Then the real thumper- he died less than a month after my last comment to him where he replied to me with the words…‘See what I mean? All that jazz about graciousness? It’s no jazz, and I thank you for it, P. And I’m awful curious where this will take me. Or where I’ll take it.”
Who fucking knew it would be his grave.
Ben, I’ve cried a river since I read the tribute and I don’t know if it’s for your time cut short or my time not being my own …sorry mate, just being honest with you, sure.