The Curious Incident of the Blog in the Nighttime
Late night blogging is a little like road trip fever that sets in after too many french fries, too many diesel fumes, strange faces wearing plastic badges, the pale sheen of neon sweat on the windshield. You want to know how close you are to the spare relief of a motel best viewed in the pitch dark. It’s a private moment once the room key is in hand. Only you know that you’ve thrown your clothes onto a chair that has seen it all, whose stubby veneer legs seem planted, very inert, facing the bolt on television. Go ahead and don’t brush your teeth, dig those Roy Rogers PJs out of the bag, try to figure out why the light switch is located four feet from the bed, why the remote seems to be melting in your grasp. Dan Rather has deserted you for the local guy, punch mute, punch power, fall out of bed reaching for the goddamned light switch.
This is why you blog. This is why, with the interstate thumping in the background, you drown out the cries and whispers and moans, the slamming doors, heat lightning arguments of strange voices, the slow tick of the air conditioner. Tap away on the keyboard. Tuck those feet under your legs, grab a ten gallon hat, a shot of tequila, and say it. When you’re finished, you’re tired, too tired to wrestle with the innertube disguised as a pillow, the glowing clock set to another time zone, the lead weight of the comforter with the six gun motif. You’re done. Lights out.