...so, what do you write about?

Today I asked S if he read blogs, and then spilled the beans and mentioned this place. I don't usually talk about mister anchovy much. I like the fact that my readership, such as it is, has developed more or less organically. A bunch of people know that mister anchovy perhaps isn't my given name (har, they think they know the real me), and I do nothing to prevent people from figuring that business out if they think that is a good use of their time.

S asked a couple perfectly reasonable questions. The first was, what do you write about? Good question. I mumbled something about accordions and painting, while thinking, my god, I don't have a business plan. There are no rules. I can post anything I want. What good is a blog like that? You know, model-train-heads can go to model train blogs and knit-heads can go to knitting blogs, and foodies can go to food blogs... I never fill out the section on my template where you are supposed to describe your blog, because, well, I'm simply not sure just what the thing is all about. Now, if you asked about my other blog, The Southern Ontario Fly Fisher, the answer is easy...it's about fly fishing, silly.

About mister anchovy, maybe I should just say, it's about anchovies, silly?

The second question S asked me was if I had ads, yet. Well, as you all know, I don't have ads, and let me say now that as soon as I get the idea in my brain that this is a money-making venture, please feel free to whack me upside the head and say, it's all over now, baby-blue...shut her down. Not that I have anything against ads on blogs or bloggers who choose to have ads on blogs. Not at all. (I don't read the ads...quick poll...have any of you actually clicked on an ad on a blog on purpose, even once?). I simply like the fact that mister anchovy is pure, well pure something-or-other-whatever-this-is. Pure folly.

I often think of painting as my folly. I make paintings in spite of the fact that few people want to look at them, and fewer people still want to buy them. Occasionally, somebody will ask me if a show I exhibited in was successful, and I never know what to say. I want to say, oh yeah, some peculiar fellow wandered in a week or so ago and really dug the paintings.... but I know the answer is supposed to be in financial terms, like, oh yes the collectors were lined up, and as usual, all the paintings sold before the opening. I remember a show I had at Loop Gallery a few years ago (it may have been the show with Scott Childs called Two Miserable Bastards). A guy came in and went into the back gallery where I had a bunch of small paintings. He was in there for the longest time. On his way out, he went over to the comment book and wrote about one of the paintings, called Superior: this is one of the best paintings I've seen in years. Too bad I don't have the money to buy it. I wish he had said something...the painting would likely be on semi-permanent-hardly retrievable loan right now (if you're out there and you remember the painting, contact me).