And sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm just done with blogging. After all, I'm doing it mostly for my own amusement. And maybe a little to vent some righteous gay anger. And possibly also to give myself an easy cut-and-paste holiday letter project every year. So when five days go by and I haven't even thought about making a post I think perhaps that's some kind of sign that I should just go back to watching In Search Of ... or whatever it was I was into when I discovered I could share embarrassing stories and gratuitous photos with strangers around the world without even putting on my pants.
And then something totally charming happens. Like yesterday. I was waiting to meet my friend Marc at Market Days, the Boystown street fair that gets so crowded it makes eating fried foods and talking to friends a violent contact sport. I got to our designated meeting spot (Sidetrack, right in front of the show tune speakers) early and was standing there waiting for him like a total loser who had no friends even though there were ten thousand people all within three feet of me when suddenly an adorable guy runs up to me with the biggest grin on his face and he starts telling me how much he loves my blog and he was visiting from Boston and he'd told his friends he'd hoped to run into me while he was here and he was so sweet and charming (and cute!) and one of his friends took our picture and then he disappeared back into the crowd and probably only two minutes had gone by but he totally made my weekend. And not only did I suddenly have something to blog about (thanks, handsome stranger!) but I had a newfound Reason To Go On. (And I'm sorry but I'm a total douche and I can't remember your name. But meeting you was a standout experience in a weekend filled with standout experiences. I'm humbled and flattered that my endless ramblings can make a perfect stranger act so happy to see me. So thanks. And I hope you enjoyed your visit to Chicago. And I really hope meeting me wasn't the vacation high point you painted it to be. There are sooooo many more fun things to do in Chicago than talk to my awkward self.)
This isn't the first time something like that has happened either. I get recognized from my blog about once a month. And I never know how to respond when people approach me. I certainly don't see myself as a celebrity or even a sad little celebrity wannabe so when I get fan-like attention from strangers I get all goofy inside and have absolutely no idea how to respond when people compliment me on my ... marathon training narratives. Or my disassociative metaphors. Or my dated jabs at easy targets like Rush Limbaugh. Or Sarah Palin. (Seriously? Vice president?) So if you've ever come up to me and said something to me about my blog and I've gotten all wooden and dazed-looking like ... um ... Sarah Palin at a spelling bee, please don't think I'm a douchebag for not saying much to you. I seriously have no idea what to say that doesn't sound like I think I'm waiting for my Pulitzer nomination. But do know that every time someone compliments me on my blog, a "family values" Senator gets caught having an affair with a goat. So please come up and say hi if you see me out and about. If not for me, then for the goats.
Oh, and moments after my handsome stranger disappeared back ino the crowd, Marc showed up. And someone we actually know took our picture. Right in the exact same spot where the magic had just happened and a helpless little goat got his innocence back. And the picture is thoroughly, shamelessly gratuitous:
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