And so it has come to this: I am about to commit bloggamy. Actually, I’m already doing it. As of now, I am a bloggamist. It sounds seriously naughty, as if there’s a commandment against it. And if the censors have their way with us, there will be. Is bloggamy more like bigamy or blasphemy? Stay tuned.

For years, I’ve stayed off the stuff. Not my drug of choice, I’ve always said, wouldn’t even try it. Stuck to writing my little articles, Terror Journals, Dr. Laura Diaries, emails that drove Max crazy, stories, books, Jurassic-era media. I was afraid a blog might drown me in quasi-journalistic minutiae. The word itself BLOG sounds like something you get stuck in. Scary stuff. I do so love my freedom. Freedom is the greatest aphrodisiac. But bondage is a close second. And, as of today, I can resist the Call of the Blog no longer. I am ready and willing to give myself over to utter abandoned unexpurgated bloggamy, even though I know I am cheating on the rest of my life.

I wonder if my fears will come true. Do you know? Does surrendering one’s tender neck to the tight collar of bloggamy change things? Does it ruin one’s life?

I kept a diary when I was in my teens and early twenties. But that’s different because no one was supposed to read it (though of course, everybody did, but theoretically, it was private). This is a two-way street. I am committing bloggamy with you, my darling reader. Maybe more than two ways, as hopefully I will have more than one reader. Orgiastic bloggamy. It’s got that zesty Italian flavor: I blogga you, you blogga me. Oh baby, bloggamy.

I’m looking forward to it. Seems more exciting than just emailing and cozier than writing articles alone in my loft. Please help me decide what to blog about – sex, politics, events at the Speakeasy, minutiae? Cut me a little slack, as I try to conform my ancient 20th century skills to the *new* media. But let me know when you think I’m full of shit. And of course, tell me you love me to swell up my already swelled head (thus the hats). Oh, I love you already. Let’s have blog sex.

Speaking of sex…

It’s the holidaze – a most WUNDERFUL time of year, unless it’s not. My advice is to do as the ancient Saturnalians who celebrated Xmas before there was Xmas, and have some Hot Holiday Sex to Chase Away the Cold Dark Winter Blues. You can also read it in my favorite online publication (besides my own journal), Counterpunch, if you prefer my prose without pictures.

And so my fellow bloggamists, brothers & sisters, lovers & sinners, fellow Children of Sex, it’s XXXmas Eve, the night before Hannukkah, the day before the deluge…the turkey is roasting, the taters are boiling, the war is raging, lovers are screwing, the pretty little angel’s butt is stuck on the big fir tree, and I am stuck in my blog (in a good way). Whether you believe in God, the Goddess, Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Saturn or you’re a believer in Faith-Based Sex, joy to you, my darling bloggamy-reader…

Peace on Earth ~ Pleasure for All ~ Follow The Bonobo Way