A New York Times magazine essay on the consequences, for writers, of Twittering asked, "When friends become fans, what happens to intimacy?"
Good question, and one that's come to me more than once, walking down the fairway or sitting at the bar with a pal.
There's a lull in the conversation. I try think of something I've done or thought about lately. Scout and I are playing pick-up baseball games in the local park … I had a crazy conversation with some clodhoppers up in the U.P. … Some old goat told me life after 50 is perfect.
"Yeah, I know. I read it on your blog."
Like a bubble the conversation burst, all at once and nothing first.
And what's more, I imagine my pal is vaguely insulted that I'm trying to pawn off a warmed-over blog anecdote in a genuine personal conversation.
But I'd forgotten it was a blog anecdote! Or at least, I'd forgotten that this pal reads my blog! And besides, my blog is genuine personal conversation—just with strangers looped in!
I want my friends to read my blog, and I love it when they comment here.
But I'm also grateful that there are some who don't.
Because with them, there's more to talk about.