Behind the Cellar Door

If you want to write, you have to read. That's a paraphrased bit of advice from one of my literary heroes, Stephen King. If you at all fancy yourself a writer, or if you just want to know more about the macabre man behind such fantastic tales like The Stand, you should read his book, On Writing which, in some editions, comes decked out in this innocent little sleeve that sports a creamy house with a large bay window that sits over a flowerbed fresh from the nursery. Seriously, it looks like the side of a pleasant house in a nice little town (and I have no trouble picturing it nestled among those found in places like Castle Rock). There is, not so inconspicuously, a cellar door on that cover as well, a slightly unsightly promontory on the side of the aforementioned pleasant house with the flowers nestled in Castle Rock; eventually the cellar door becomes the fixation of one's vision so that the hint of the dark below the innocence beats soundly beneath the surface like the tell-tale heart.

I'm digressing -- "I am Jack's complete lack of surprise" -- as this is not a post about King or Poe, but about reading people's blogs.

Recently, with the revival of this blog, I introduced the world of blogging to Mary and she, in turn, became instantly addicted to surfing the blogs of total strangers. For the record, I assume that mine is now the only blog she cares to read with any regularity as this was not a true addiction, but rather a passing interest which has now been forgotten like last year's Christmas presents in favor of her new internet fix: Half.com (and that is quite funny to me as she's not big on the shopping, yet she's become happily immersed in the virtual browsing of the world's clearance rack). It is only a matter of time before she finds a new procrastinatory device - as the things that distract us are, more oft than not, fleeting amusements or worries, all easily dismissed when we're ready to settle back into whatever we were ignoring in the first place.

Admittedly, I too read lots of blogs as a fun distraction these days and readily encourage friend after friend to jump off the cyberspace cliff with the rest of us and just blog their every thought and daily experience rather than call or write me personally when they feel like sharing. The realization that I'm perpetuating this paradoxical form of communication hit me full in the face yesterday morning when I was talking to my good friend and writing partner, Michael, and asked how his evening had gone the night before (as we were both expecting news that I will get to shortly) and he said, "read it in my blog." Dear God, what have I done?

A little protest on my part, a little reiteration on his, and what did I do? What else? I listened to my friend, this blogging monster that I am partially responsible for, and later that day (once he finally posted, the prolific git) I read about his adventures (a series of events, some of which have now become moot). And God help me, I found it fascinating. Like the movie-screen evoking windows in Hitchcock's Rear Window, the best blogs let us peek inside someone's mind. They offer, to the reader, some cerebral voyeurism and to the blogger, a little mental exhibitionism. So after I had read every syllable of Michael's blog, I moved on to others, my mouse clicking faster and faster in search of another distraction.

At some point that afternoon, while eating what must be the epitome of chicken salad sandwiches, a savory concoction of white meat, raisins, and God knows what else from Zuppa Downtown, I stopped by myspace.com and perused the spaces and blogs of my friends there and came upon an entry on my friend Dan's space that spoke on the sanctity of marriage and the oft uttered phrase, "Till Death Do Us Part". And the question was posed, "Could you imagine if the only way you could leave a marriage was through death? I wonder how many people would get married if they knew they didn't have an out."

Now, I must preface this next bit with the disclaimer that I'm not really this disturbed - just that I think like a writer (because I fancy myself one) and perhaps I've read a bit much of the Stephen King.

Who says there's no out? Death is an out. And in some warped society, if that Church mandate was to become actual law, I would imagine there would be a dramatic rise in the number of mysterious deaths among married couples, if not outright contract killings. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

Oh, come on, like that exact thought didn't flash through the back of your mind in that place where you pretend you don't think like that? Or maybe you do think like that and you're nodding your head yes in agreement. Either way, the question intrigued me.

I could go on with more tales of more blogs, like the random one I read today from some guy in the U.K. (that was an unfortunate rhyme) who seemed to think that something was "absolute bullocks", though right now I cannot recall what is was. Besides, you're probably still thinking about the alternate reality where marriage is truly a life long commitment and my brutally honest reaction as to how one might get out of it.

It's like the cellar door. At a glance, nothing too scary -- but upon reflection and careful pondering, you start to feel uneasy about what's really down there. And in a sense, all blogs are like cellar doors. Sure, most are just public journals while others, like mine, try to make you think a bit; but all in all, what do you really know about the person blogging? If it's a stranger, are they any less a stranger after you've read their posts? If it's a friend, are you seeing a side of them that they can't share face to face, but only through the warm blanket of anonymity (or quasi-anonymity)?

I'm tellin' you -- fascinating.