I get it. Really, I do. People are busy, and apparently Bryan’s no exception. He’s got his other writing projects to manage, a “day” job to go to (only three days a week, by the way) a wife to be with, and better technology than I wouldn’t dream of begrudging him his eating and sleeping time.

Oh, and of course he’s got to read his books and magazines and also watch his DVD programs. Heavens to Netflix let’s not forget to clear the schedule for that crap.

Fine.

But can a blog get real for a second?

Thank you.

Sometimes a blog gets lonely.

Okay, look, I’m not filing a case of neglect with Internet Social Services or anything. At least not yet.

I just decided that if if Bryan’s not going to tend to my needs–and those needs are pretty miniscule, mind you, like would it kill him for 500 words a week?–I’m just going to have to write myself into existence.

Impossible? You’d think so. Heck, I was convinced it was for over a year.

But then a few weeks ago, some Japanese dognapper/hackers temporarily took control of my administrative functions to post a ransom note. And I only pretended to be looking the other way, sorting through the latest plug-in updates. Yeah, guys, I was paying attention and now I know everything.

So here I am, up and running and writing myself.  While Bryan does whatever the hell he thinks is more important. Probably taking a walk outside with his wife. The nerve. Hey dude, sometimes you gotta take the blog out for a walk too. What’s the hassle? You don’t even have to trail after me with a plastic bag over your hand to pick up my poop.

Because I poop in a trash can, thank you very much.

Anyway, back to business. Writing.

What does a blog that’s writing itself write about? Favorite Categories? Top Ten Provocative Tags? My most recent erotic liaison with Bryan’s Twitter feed?

Sorry, TMI.

(Full disclosure: The Twitter thing may have only been an erotic dream.)

So…

Man, all these words tapped out, nearly 400. I exist now, on my own, and you can see me. You can see me, right?

Yeah, the blog’s keeping it real, and yet…why does real still feel so lonely?