Is this thing on?

For my eleventh birthday, my parents gave me a diary. It screamed masculinity in 1981. Trust me. Cream-color leatherette with a brown sketch of a baby seal on the front and a gold lock to ensure the pages remain private. I made all the entries with a blue Bic pen, in cursive, and wrote at a ferocious rate. As the end of the page approached, I desperately searched my vocabulary for shorter words, for space in the margins, squishing together the letters.  The pages weren't long enough to capture flashes of brilliance like this very first entry: 

Today was my 11th birthday and alls [sic] well that ends well.  First of all I invited 9 people but only 8 came but eight is alot [sic]. 

(Just so you know: they didn't have punctuation in the early 80s.) As time passed, the entries became shorter and more infrequent.  I went from daily to weekly to monthly to rarely.  Six months passed, and finally this single, one-line entry:

Today my parents were good to me.

Years later, anthropologists would conclude that my parents chained me to the dryer in the basement, but on September 8, 1981, something compelled them to show some mercy.

Well-over 120,000 new blogs are created every day.  But of the 133 million blogs on the planet, I wonder how many peter out not so unlike this one did two years ago? What do you say I give this schtick another whirl?

Dear Diary:

It's been nearly three decades since I've written you.  A lot has happened. 

Today my eight-month-old son was good to me. Oh, and did I mention I have a second book coming out in two months? (pictured to the right) 

But more about that later. 

If you're looking for information on LOVESICK, here it is, short and sweet.