Yet another writer wanna-be.

A Dickensian paraphrase: It's the least I can do, it's the best I can do.
I suppose a simple introduction is in order. Awkward, though, since I have no idea whether I already know you or not. I'll presume I do not. I will equally presume you actually exist.
So, gentle reader (the first of many cliches), I am a 50 something year old gay man living in a semi-suburban town just south east of Philadelphia PA. I suppose I didn't immediately need to identify as gay, as it will matter little in much of what I write. Straight people don't seem to mark that territory nearly as quickly as gay folks do, I guess because it's presupposed. There are many other facts of my life that will play a much more important role in shaping my thoughts as I put fingers to keys.
I'm unemployed, active in community theatre, a recovering alcoholic, a slob, a dog lover who has a cat, an estranged brother and (I am told) a treasured friend. Politically, I lean to the left, get a touch of vertigo and find myself leaning back toward the center. I watch too much television, but mostly reruns of old shows. I spend way too much time on the Internet which has made me a damn good Googler and fairly inured to porn. And I am a domestic partner. These things will shape my blog, as they shape my life.
Facebook actually led me to blogging. People who have read my status updates told me repeatedly I should consider writing. Short of greeting cards, there is little market for the pithy, quick and sometimes bizarre things I haphazardly put out on poor, unsuspecting news feeds. And thus, I blog.
I really have no idea who will deign to read these musings. In fact, I stopped reading myself two paragraphs ago. I figure I know me pretty well, already know what I'm going to say and am relatively unimpressed.
I will do my best to entertain, perhaps teach and try my damnedest not to bore. It's the least I can do, it's the best I can do.