blogging

i was going to write this long, rather involved blog post about how my blog had "fallen into a state of clinical depression" in order to explain the blog's absence or rather lack of content in the previous months with a sort of humorous yet still sort of "literary" bent, which all would signal the "grand return" of this blog and all these stories that are like stories but aren't really stories. and i was going to use all these seemingly clever, yet probably easily constructed personifications for the blog's depression. mainly stupid things like the blog hasn't really felt like writing anymore, but it's more than that. it's that the blog doesn't really feel that expressing itself is meaningful because every time it tries to express itself, the expression trying to be expressed immediately changes or suddenly becomes seemingly trivial or cliched and thus not really worth expressing. and that the only thing really worth expressing was/is this feeling that nothing is worth expressing and how sort of frightening that is, meaning mainly that everything is basically meaningless, from this blog's perspective (and how fun would that be as a blog post?), thus leading the blog reader to understand that the blog understands the depth of its own depression, yet is clearly unwilling to do anything about it. and the depression, the lack of being able to express anything except that nothing is worth expressing would offer an explanation as to why the blog had been "out of commission" for some time. yet that seemed kind of stupid and dull (and probably mean-spirited if viewed by a person with actual, serious, suicidal-type depression), so i decided to write about writing about that, which somehow seemed like it would show i was a bit more clever and etc, possibly less mean-spirited, which of course is how i'd like to be viewed, but this also seemed terribly posing and self-ingratiating, so i decided to let all of that go and write about Novak Djokovic losing the US Open final to Rafael Nadal. but instead of doing that (because i saw no conceivable way to really convey the sadness i felt when Djokovic lost to Nadal, who (Djokovic here) played so well and showed so much grit and heart and all the other terrible cliches one can imagine associated with sports, but which turn out to be terribly and beautifully true: how Djokovic fought off match points against Federer, arguably the greatest tennis player in the Open era, and got down into himself so far to see what he could bring back up into the lights in Flushing Meadows and actually did so and beat Federer in five sets, only to lose to Nadal, who might now and all of a sudden be arguably the greatest tennis player of the Open era), instead of doing any of that, i was just going to leave the blog alone, as has been the usual, but then i said fuck it. and maybe the best part about Djokovic losing was the way he lost really fighting, both Nadal and himself, and still, afterward, not whining about it, taking Nadal's check, making the joke, as is his wont, and saying that he'll be there again to win it. which i sincerely hope he does. go Novak.

in a whole other post, i might explore how tennis might be the closest sport there is to writing, no joke