What is it with blogging hermits—or quasi-hermits?
Would Henry David Thoreau have had a blog? I am sure of it. Anyone who would edit his autobiography so that two years of experience fit neatly into one literary year has demonstrated the capability of self-romanticizing that blogging requires.
Sunday's Denver Post had a long piece about a man named Daniel Suelo who lives in a cave outside Moab, Utah, never handles money, dumpster-dives, etc.—and blogs about his life, courtesy of the long-suffering local librarians. (Somebody tell him that white-on-black fonts offer poor readability.)
I can see Diogenes the Cynic updating his blog at the public library too: "inabarrel.blogspot.com."
And there are others.
Lately I have been reading As The Crow Flies, who offers this thought:
If you want to be alone, it’s important to know, you can never get far enough away; humans and their noise producing machines are everywhere. One thought that helps me, is to think of myself as an alien dropped off on a planet of apes. Then I can just sit back and enjoy the show—like going to the zoo.
But the post that sold me on her blog is this one.
I cannot get it out of my mind. Maybe it's because M. and I often go several days without talking to anyone else in person (not counting email). Without her (and the dogs), I would soon be wondering the same thing.
Cross-posted to Southern Rockies Nature Blog.