from Whiskey Bar: My Back Pages

Billmon on blogging, writing, and the futility of fighting knowing liars with the known truth. A sad and brilliant analysis of the post election zeitgeist of the liberal blogoshere.

Since I reopened Whiskey Bar back in January, huge numbers of readers – well, OK, one or two – have asked me why I’m not “writing” anymore. Or, to be more precise, why I’m not “writing” posts in the customary first person singular – i.e., talking directly to the readers, instead of weaving together other people’s words and pictures, with the odd detour into the completely fictional (well, semi-fictional) futures of people like Paul Wolfowitz and Jeb Bush.

It’s a reasonable question, even though it may not have a reasonable answer. But I’ve got some spare time on my hands today, and since I don’t really care to gawk at the grand finale to the Terri Schiavo media freak circus (unless Jeb Bush bites the head off a chicken, I think the rest of the show is going to be an anti-climax anyway), I thought I’d take a crack at explaining – or at least describing – what drove me away from blogging last summer, why I came back, and why I’ve been keeping my natural tendency to rant so firmly in check these past few months.

Those of you who have only recently discovered this blog (I’m looking in your direction, Mr. Horowitz) almost certainly will want to skip this post – it’s going to be very long and boring and not very funny and also excessively introspective (but I repeat myself.) However, I thought some of the barflies – those loyal customers who have been patronizing this joint since the glory days when Whiskey Bar still had comments – might want to know what’s being going on inside my own fluid-filled cranial cavity these past few months. So this round is for them.

Lost At Sea

What happened, roughly, is this: Last summer I got off a boat after a week of intensive Internet detox therapy, and decided there weren’t enough good reasons to keep the bar open – and more than enough reasons, both personal and professional, to shut it down, at least for a good long while. (more)