Pepe's prophetic words, my friends, describe perfectly how I am feeling tonight: Disillusioned. Displaced. Disaffected. And just a wee-bit . . . Dis-tempered.
So distempered, in fact, that I have declared myself landed in Blogger's Bohemia.
That's right, I am the quintessential Bohemian Blogger.
And let me just state for the record that I have recently googled the term Bohemian Blogger, and - before publication of this post - the term itself doesn't exactly exist. So that, my friends, means that I get to be the first to define its meaning. And if you Wiki the term Bohemian you will find that the term refers to a literary gypsy - an artist who, consciously or unconsciously, secedes from conventionality in life and in art. So a Bohemian Blogger may be one, like me, who has lost her way.
Let's face it. Do you know another artiste who would happily spend an entire weekend immersing herself in the persona and malapropisms of a smelly, delusional, and lecherous skunk while trying (unsuccessfully) to climb the search engine of Pepe le Pew?
No, but a Bohemian Blogger would.
Because a Bohemian Blogger, my friends, is a blogger looking for her identity. A mommy blogger who never really bragged about her kids. A humor blogger who lost her ready-made material when her three teenage daughters grew up and flew the coop. A snarky blogger whose second act vanished when her computer-illiterate boss retired and the mere thought of her new boss reading her blog left her itching to enter the confessional. A Bohemian Blogger has been stranded in no-man's-land. . . looking for a new home. . . .a new target. . . a new raison d'etre if you will. . .
Let's face it.
I am the Hardy without the Laurel . . . the comic without the relief. . the Looney without the Tunes. . ..the Rhapsody without the Merrie Melody.
Because I'm easy come, easy go.
Little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows,
doesn't really matter to me. . .
And let me just state for the record that I never killed a man.