We Are What We Are And Sometimes That Is Not As Much As We Would Like

So this is the age of Aquarius. The age of the human, of technology, of democracy, of celebrity, of Narcissus. This blogging stuff is striking to me. These are like little stabs at our very own magazine, all about us. Oprah has O, I have Ok Oh. Our better sensibilities cry foul: Propriety! Modesty! Privacy! These are our better instincts. There is the myth of the man who goes his own way, who never aggrandizes himself. The lone cowboy, the undiscovered artist, the anonymous good Samaritan. Jacques Brel or Frank Sinatra? Sinatra had the voice, but Brel, Brel had the feeling. In the end, the cowboy wants to be respected, even if feared. The artist, discovered, even posthumously. The Samaritan wants appreciation, even if it is just one look. And now, we have these little personal magazines called blogs.