Musings —11.28.2017 02:23 PM—
Raymi the Minx is a friend of mine. I have known her to be a singer, a poet, a model, an artist and, most of all, a blogger. I have seen her sing. I have one of her paintings.
She uses the word blogger, I don’t. I hate it. I’ve been doing my web site thing since before “blog” was invented as a word, so I get to call this whatever I want to call it. If I want to call it the fucking Starship Enterprise, I can.
Anyway. My friend Raymi is cool with blogger, however. And she, like me, has been doing it for 17 years:
I’m not exactly sure when I started, but she is. She started 17 years ago today.
If you can scan my earliest web site – which has the production values of a Fourteenth Century woodcut – and figure out when I started, be my guest. I don’t have a clue, and I don’t give a shit.
Raymi and me don’t hang out all the time or have secret handshakes or anything. We do totally different things, for totally different audiences.
But I admire her, and have long admired her, for her guts and her creativity and for her willingness to just put herself out there. I like people who are characters, and she is a character. No J. Alfred Prufrock is she.
Will she ever shut down her online self? Maybe. I might, too. Who knows.
In the meantime, however, Raymi and me are both getting close to twenty years. Unless Donald Trump and the North Koreans blow us all up, that is, in which case all bets are off.
Anyway. Happy anniversary, Raymi. (And you should write that book.)