Why

Ever since I first read Marieke Hardy’s former blog ‘Reasons You Will Hate Me’ (a close second to the title of her collection of essays, ‘You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead’) I’ve wanted a blog of my own. Hardy’s blog was a hit amongst the inner-city, left-leaning, latte-sipping (just got to add bicycle-riding, sandal-wearing and muesli-chewing to quote Paul Keating) of which I am sometimes have the tendencies of. It was well-written, funny and had a loyal band of followers, and also caused right-wing columnist Andrew Bolt to decry it and Hardy too, of which must surely be a badge to wear with pride.

How I’d love for this blog to enrage Young Liberals, as Reasons You Will Hate Me did, causing a spat in the Herald Sun over  the involvement of a dodgy trick by the Libs to steal vote in the seat of Melbourne Ports in 2004. And to abuse them too like Hardy did of her Tory antagonist, calling her a ‘slutty, sweary ladybird’. Dare you to top that. (Can you tell I used to have quite a “squish” – apparently the term for a non-physical crush, on Marieke Hardy? Go on, you’d have a soft spot for her too, what with that lovely throaty Melbourne voice of hers and the fact that she’s a total book nerd. All I ask for out of life is a fling with a bookish brunette – is that too much?)

Many times I’ve started a blog, only to lose interest after the first two or three posts about whatever took my fancy, because of course for a blog to be a success you need “hits”, or an audience – people bored enough to click the link to your page, to get that behemoth Google machine to show you on the first page of results for any search. The last blog I had was basically typed-up versions of my Bob Ellis-inspired diary entries about whatever was happening politically at the time, and where I was writing it from – usually a cafe on George Street, Brisbane called Dome, which was the coffee-haunt of choice for my fellow students in journalism school before I didn’t just drop out but fell from a bloody great height. I still remember two things of note that happened at Dome: 1) lined up at the counter for a flat white, I stood behind Jayant Patel. He ordered a vegetarian wrap. 2) Germaine Greer once came up in conversation and I was asked if I would have sexual intercourse with Professor Greer. To a question like that, what other response is there than shrugging and saying with an air of (try-hard) coolness, “For the cred.” Thank Buddha that Dome has since closed down; otherwise I’d probably still be there, engaging in pseudo-wank banter on my own.

So I’m sticking with this blog to get into writing again, and to hopefully be properly published – wannabe hack that I am – with my only previous experience an internship at a local weekly newspaper – two interviews and a feature.

I welcome all bricks and flowers.