Muriel

charlie-chaplin-1159667

Yesterday I read the paper.
I rarely read the paper.
I do not watch television.
I read that ‘these days every man and his dog has a blog.’
That made me feel mildly depressed.
I do not know why.

I put the paper down and looked at the dog sitting next to me.
Does that dog really have a blog?
Was the newspaper being literal?
I hope not.
I would feel disappointed if the dog sitting next to me had a blog.
What would the dog blog about?

If a dog could really blog, I would probably give away blogging.
What would take its place?
Maybe I would try and have a relationship with someone.
Is that why I blog then?
Because I am not in a relationship?
Anyhow, just because I blog does not make me a blogger.

I am nothing in particular.
I mean, I am not what I do.
I just do things.
I am Muriel.
Well, I am not really Muriel.
My name is Muriel.

I am a human.
I am unique.
I am unique, genetically.
I do not really know what that means.
I think what I am trying to say is that there is only one person in the world who looks exactly like me – Me.

If my face fell into a puddle I would not look like me anymore.
Which would make me cry.
I would probably hide behind a door and make strange noises.
Or, I would live in a turret and peep down onto the street.
Or, I would walk alone in the company of shadows and nocturnal creatures.
Or, I would eat lots of ice cream and reminisce about the days of Muriel.

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