I have not been writing much here lately. I had a run, then lost it, for reasons that might be clear from the immediately previous entry. Some time has passed - some distance achieved - I could start trying to write things here.

Leaving us with the question of what to write. In fact, I suppose, if I were able to just type what I am thinking about - well, okay, so then I would be blogging over and over again about what bastards George Bush and company are, or about the Butthole Surfers, or about generations of history majors. Or, possibly, about Lester Bangs, whose new book I have been reading. Or music, since, you think Lester, you think music. He is (or was, though since I'm reading it today, the words are in front of me today, um, I don't know if I havce a point here or not), as a writer, great for so many reasons, though one of them is that he communicates a sense of the sheer wonder of music. He demands that you respond to it. Though another reason he is so great is - that he is so great - that he is better than the music he writes about. Pure prose, I mean, as well as his breadth of interests and associations and images. There are critics who write like that - some of them - Pauline Kael let's say - seem to be sure of it, that is the point of their writing, to show that they are more amusing, entertaining, important, what have you, than what they are writing about. So what makes Lester Bangs great, then, is that he indeed was a better writer - more worth spending time with - than a lot of the stuff he wrote about - yet he did not make you want to read him instead of listening to the music. He made you want to read him along with the music.

Anyway, Lester Bangs. Music. Good, bad indifferent. Popular, populist and other. I could write about that, as I have been thinking about it, why people like what they like, the effect one or two enthusiasts can have on the people around them... and so on. But I don't think I will write about that, partly bvecause this entry is getting to be long enough without it.

Meanwhile - I am in google! Behold - Google Search: weepingsam . Oh, I could be so proud. One of these days, I suppose, I could consider seeking an audience. But not until I consider posting some content.