Thursday, January 6, 2011


It’s a new year, and heck if I can figure out what to write about. I was struggling with an addiction in 2010, a full-on monkey on my back that goes by the name of “Drama”. My main supplier, this blog: claudtalks. It was stirring up all sorts of trouble. Pissed off boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, bikers, cops, many leaving threatening comments on the claudtalks threads, or sending text messages alerting me that trouble was on the rise. A lawyer friend advised me to keep a log of comments and characters, I was watching my back, the president of a biker crew was taking meetings with another crew to tell them the back off or there would be trouble. Up to this point I had used my writing skills to sell shampoo and dog food to consumers, I had definitely upped the ante. Blogging became an addiction, and a dangerous one at that. The drama that spun out of it resulted in increased heart rate, fear, excitement, power, and validation, a powerful elixir that would lead to no good. I had people reading claudtalks from NYPD computers, pissed off girlfriends of ex’s checking claudtalks 2 or more times a day – I made a vow not to write stories about anyone who carries weapons legally or illegally, anyone dressed as a pirate, cop, or any other costume designed to instill “respect” in others. There had to be some gripping story matter involving those who wear cotton, silk, flannel, or denim, those never diagnosed with mental health issues, plagued with prison records, or restraining orders.

There was a harmless story about a guy I had worked with – the fellow had removed the period at the end of the sentence on a print ad I was doing at work. I was amused at how much of a to-do a little period had caused, I wrote about it on my blog. A couple of weeks later an innocent bystander on the project read the post and left a comment, a lone frown-ie face. She was just starting out in the business, and although she had just been following orders when she removed the offending period, she took my blogpost to heart. She didn’t threaten me with bodily harm, a speeding ticket, or legal action – her shamed expression when we ran into each other on the street still stung hard. I still hadn’t gotten it right.

Later, I wrote a story about a friend of mine who had found happiness in an extramarital affair, it had helped smooth things out at home between her and her husband – which I found to be curious and amazing. She had been coaxing me to write her story, after refining it – switching out names, locations, time frames – it hadn’t been up more than 8 minutes when alarming emails, incoming. Her boyfriend “happened” to come across my blog, he was livid. The fact that I had spun their affair into a quick fix of her marriage sent him into a tailspin of fury, she was annoyed that I had mistaken the new calm in her home as any sign of a romantic rekindling. Claudtalks helped precipitate the end of the year-long affair. The damage was done – I deleted the piece from the blog, I had done this too many times before – I had already removed over a year of blogposts in the interest of freeing my blog of any drama inducing content, and here I was again. Drama school was back in session.

What to write about? Stories about me and ex-boyfriends – out. Stories about me and co-workers – nix. Ditties about me and friends – N.O. Claudtalks power to offend had rendered it frozen, I was sitting paralyzed in front of my keypad wondering where to take it all next.

Claudtalks taught me a lot, seeing my life play out in black and white. I realized that I have a penchant for screwed up guys, that I was addicted to drama, and could actually feel it deliciously coursing through my viegns. It taught me that what’s good for claudtalks, isn’t good for Claud – I had to part ways with drama – it won’t be easy, we’ve been dating for years. I heard a shrink on TV tell an addict, “you need to embrace boredom” – it struck a chord, so Boredom, come to Mama. Don’t wink at the bad man on the motorcycle, don’t start wars over punctuation, don’t catch up with the driver that cut you off at the light. That stuff’s not you. And while I figure out who exactly “you” is, the blog will have to be patient. It’s been over a month, and I still don’t know what to write.

When drama peaked on claudtalks, my readership was through the roof. People getting pissed off seemed to go hand-in-hand with increased hits. I wasn’t the only drama addict, I had a readership that thrived on it as well, I left them all back in 2010. The question remains, what’s in store for 2011? And will anyone give a hoot?

I woke up this morning, made some coffee and checked if anyone had visited claudtalks besides an occasional friend, or a random blog surfer from Czechoslovakia. And there it was, a hit from an NYPD computer – just like back in the old days – my blood started rushing, I felt “alive” again – sitting sipping coffee from a hand made mug, all toasty in my flannel PJ’s,– that delicious drama gave a little “you hooo!!” to me before I reminded myself that I have a date with boredom today – and I’m actually looking forward to it; and if I’m doing everything right – it won’t be anything to write home about.


  1. There is always bacon. For breakfast, for lunch, for a topic of conversation. For instance, how is that stuff in England have the gall to call itself bacon when it's clearly NOT? That deserves a frowny face.

  2. I love English breakfast!! That toast that they fry in bacon grease in a big black skillet... mmnnnfriedtoastnbaconnnnnnnnn

  3. The truth hurts dont let the h8trs win. Call em like you see em your a hoot lady.

  4. Hahahaaa... thanks.... I think the h8trs account for half of my readership. BAH!