Endings

Everything must come to an end. Beethoven. Cars. Footballs. Tennis matches. Bungee chords. Limozeens. Words ending in "e." Words ending in "s." Violence. Suffering. And space.

But this blog must not. I know this because it is speaking to me. It tells me, "Where must you go now?" I ask it, "To the restroom." It shrugs, but I know that it is whispering, listening. "Let me in," it wants to say, but it can't, for it is a blog.

That is why I am marking this post as the end of the end of this blog. This blog is no longer ending, because the end has ended. In fact, it never really began. So ends the end, before the end begins, at the beginning of the beginning, which is the middle of something else. In fact, I declare that the end of the beginning of the beginning of the beginning comes tomorrow. That will throw them for a loop.

Everything must come to a bend. Race cars. Runway models. Roller coasters. Words ending in "s." Arrows. And space.

But this blog must not. I know this because it is not wearing any underwear. It asks me, "I am rather embarrassed." But I do not know why. Blogs are not supposed to have these kinds of awkward emotions. In fact, they don't.

Perhaps your blog is speaking to you, now. Not your real blog, but your inner blog, is trying to scruff its way out. Don't let it. It's a nuisance. Anyway, do you really believe that there is a blog living inside you? If so, I would like to know why. Because I find that notion to be extremely confusing.

My blog is following me around like a lost child. It picks up a piece of lint and I smack its hand. "Don't eat that," I say. "It's not clean."

"Yes it is," replies my blog.

Then I stop. How did my blog become anthropomorphized?

It didn't. I'm lying. Obviously. Do you really believe that blogs follow people around and pick up lint? Because I think that would be very cool, but it's highly unlikely.

That will not stop someone from patenting it.

I know you don't believe. But I believe, and in many things. I believe, for instance, in lions. I used to be one, a long time ago, before my haircut. But I decided that hair is unsuitable for blogging. You see, everything must come to an end. Even lions.