Overimaginative weblog moment

When I’m typing away I’m just me typing. I’m as much myself as I am when I’m talking to another person face-to-face. Admittedly in the latter case there may be some shifting and arrangement because I have a specific person I’m addressing and I can envision a particular arrangement of details that may convey the essence of what I want to say.

But when I’m posting to my weblog my imaginary audience is sympathetic, interested and understanding. Equally I know they are strangers so I’ll modulate details here and there hoping to help them bridge the physical and psychic distance. But it is presentation, not dissimulation.

Earlier in typing a reply I found myself wondering what does {gender neutral} think I’m trying to say. Does s/he wonder if I’m trying to evoke a sexual effect or response? It left me almost unable to write another word. I guess it was the blogging equivalent of a penis that won’t arise.

But for a few moments, I couldn’t imagine writing online or crafting another entry.

This is a note to myself about a topic to return to some other time.