I feel guilty, having cut the ribbon, so to speak, on a new blog, only to be ridden into silence by, well, you know, life. The hours stack against me.
There's a lot of puerile shit out there, I have to admit. Not to say that there aren't free and inspiring voices doing their thing, but holy crap, boys and girls: a blog is not a diary. Re-read your stuff. Edit. Ask yourself "does anyone want to hear this?"; actually, everyone, ask yourself that same question before you launch into a tale about anything. Verbal or written. A bad story is other people's time, wasted.
That said, I've been fermenting. This is where past and present begin to bleed together. Inconsistent can apply to time as well as space.