Last week I met up with Coralie, a Brisbane web diarist — I’m not totally sold on the term "blogger", but oh, what the hell, everyone uses it now. Hold on, start again.
Last week I met up with Coralie, a Brisbane blogger of reasonably prominent stature (although her site is currently on hiatus, I mean in popularity terms, rather than physical height – actually she was a little shorter than I expected) when she was in town for a few days.
And last night I met up with a bunch of fellow Melbourne bloggers at an organised "meetup" (.com) event at the Gin Palace over a few drinks. What a marvellously friendly bunch of people. What was a bit off-putting was that many of them appeared to have read my diary. Not just skimmed, but read. Like they were paying attention and everything.
Sometimes I wonder if anybody’s reading. Okay, so I know I get e-mail responses from time to time, but to actually meet several of them in a room simultaneously who all seem to know what I’ve been up to was a bit unnerving.
It also leaves me wondering if I should do some kind of makeover on this diary thing of mine. It’s long overdue, this design is so 1990s. Maybe I should try outBlogger or one of
those other bits of neato software that automatically formats everything and allows visitors to comment, that kind of stuff. But if I do, I promise not to make it put the pages in some microscopic font with garish colours. At least, no more garish than currently.
