I miss not blogging.

What I mean by that is that I miss the sense of possibility and expectancy and wonder that I felt when I was first studying up on blogging, back before I launched the Ominous Comma.

In those days I was reading lots of books on writing, and lots of blogs trying to figure things out.

I read Steve Pavlina because he was talking about making a living following your passion, and I read The Sneeze and Defective Yeti because they were the only funny blogs I could find at the time.

But once I launched, I discovered is that blogging is a lot of work. Consistently writing your best humor is even harder.

Over the last year and a half, discipline has replaced excitement and my sense of wonder his given way to a constant, annoying awareness of traffic and ranks and stats.

So I’m taking a break.

Looking back, I see that my whole life has been a constant process of self reinvention, with the last two stages being DangerCouch and The Ominous Comma.

But I’m not quitting, not by a long shot.

I’m plotting, I’m hoping.

I’m dreaming.

Be back soon

-Brent

P.S. Here are a few pieces that I am especially proud of, check them out if you like.

A Short Conversations with God

The Importance of Avoiding Hubris

Writing Prompts For The Not-So-Prompt

Hormone Posining

Fashion Week

Hidden Dangers Of Spam

(If you would like to be informed when I return, I would only too happy to do that either by email or in a feedreader.)

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The story so far:

Led astray by the cute and convincing Comma Girl, I hauled my family cross country in a bold humanitarian effort to find Doctor Harold Toboggans.*

The Charming Culprit

After a long journey and a diligent search, I must have been ready to call off the whole thing off. To tell the truth I can’t really remember, which is why I’m quoting from my confidently discovered travel journal.

Moment of Truth - Reno

“After a careful week long search of most every place unlikely to be visited by the Doctor, it was time to admit failure and return home. I must have admitted it rather loudly because several bystanders repeatedly interrupted my dance of joy to ask if I required medical attention.”

Road trip - Reno to Las Vegas - 451 miles**

“Special effort was made to find and use restroom facilities overlooked on our previous journey in order not only to grace a larger area of Nevada with our waste products but also to commemorate Highway 95: The Peeingest Road in America.”

Interlude - Las Vegas Airport

“After a full twenty-four hours of bumped flights, I began to suspect the foul influence of Doctor Toboggans.

As I was stretching out in preparation of a long cross county hike, some seats opened up and we left just minutes ahead of the Doctor’s murderous and tackily attired agents of evil.

Return Flight - Las Vegas to Memphis - 1407 miles

(For British readers, that’s 2264.347008 km, or over 4 times the width of the entre Kingdom.)

“I kept a sharp lookout but even though I thought I spotted the doctor briefly over Phoenix, the only real evidence I encountered was the massive accumulation of hot air we passed in flight.”

Arrival - Memphis

“Never was I as pleased to scent the foul miasma of Memphis, as when we finally arrived home after our many suffering and were able once again to take in the panoramic view of our fair city.”

Thus concludes the tragic tale of TobogganSearch - The Quest for Suffering. Even though it has ended, it is not too late to subscribe to the Comma in a reader or by email .

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*Although the humanity of Doctor Toboggans is an unresolved question, an unfortunate malfunction in my CoinOMatic ^TM literary fabricator leaves me stuck with this less than accurate term.

**It was uphill.

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Despite serious misgivings, I was persuaded by my youngest child to travel to Nevada in search of Doctor Harold Toboggans. It was a long and painful ordeal, far in excess of anything Dr. T could reasonably expect from anyone who had ever met him.

After an unpleasant beginning, delightfully documented in part 1, the suffering began in earnest. Follow along as we explore more sensational excepts from my poorly remembered, yet fully Pulitzer-worthy vacation journal.

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Day 2 - Roadtrip - Las Vegas to Reno - 450 miles

“Highway 95, the thoroughfare that most directly connects Reno with Las Vegas, is a dry, desolate stretch of pavement that is measured not so much in miles as in urinary stops.”

The Search - Reno and Surrounding Areas

“From the moment we arrived in Reno, signs of Doctor Harold Toboggans were everywhere. His influence in that unfortunate township could not have been spelled out more thoroughly.”*

Spelling out the Doctor’s presence

“The city showed all the symptoms of prolonged Toboggans exposure: dry heat, restless wind, and sickened statues.”

Statuary Nausea - the surest indicator of Toboggans exposure.

But in spite of such promising evidence, the Doctor himself proved to be hard to find

Day 3 through Day 6

“Throughout the city of Reno we searched diligently for Doctor Toboggans but to no avail.

• We didn’t see him while playing laser tag.
• We didn’t sight him in any of the casino restaurants.
• We didn’t run into him while coming in late to The Dark Knight.
• We didn’t run into him while leaving early from Journey to the Center of the Earth.
• We didn’t spot him at the water park.
• We didn’t encounter him at the homes of friends and family.**

Despite our most earnest efforts, the Doctor was no where to be found.”***

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Will the Doctor be found? Will the family survive? Will there be more rhetorical questions?

Find out as the story continues Friday.

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*Okay, I suppose it could have been better spelled out, but it would have easily required a dozen or more additional mountainside letters.

**Our friends and family of course. No human being ever discovered will admit any relation with the Doctor of any kind, which is not really surprising among those who have suffered his presence.

***True, I guess he could have been hiding out with the high rollers somewhere on the strip. All things considered, I guess it would be more accurate to say that he was nowhere I willing to find him.

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Don’t miss any of the excitement - subscribe to the Comma in a reader or by email - today.

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The Ominous Comma’s Memphis Headquarters

The trauma of our ordeal has left me with large gaps in my memory, no doubt for my own protection, which has also left me at a loss to properly recount our adventures.

Fortunately, I seem to have kept a journal of our many travels and travails and using it, I will attempt to share with you in some small measure, the many joys and heartaches of the TobogganSearch experience.

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Day 1 - Memphis Airport - Security

“After removing my shoes, belt, and random patches of skin, I was certified semi-naked enough to board the plane.

I’m not sure what this did for the security of the other passengers, but it left me feeling very liberated and a little drafty…”

Security is in the tear-filled eyes of the beholder

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The First Flight - Memphis to Las Vegas - 1407 miles

“A most unremarkable journey which, due to the lateness of the hour, was punctuated mostly by snores and the occasional splatter of drool.

Doctor Toboggans was nowhere in evidence within the slim spaces between my eyes and their heavy lids.”

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Interlude - Las Vegas Rental Car Station

“Even though we had left behind the airport and its many inspection stations, pastry security was still high. I have no doubt that any terrorist attempting to hijack a donut would be swiftly brought to justice.

New from the NSA - “HoneyBun” the Hungry Terrorist Trap

And even if he escaped this trap, he would undoubtedly be captured while attempting the unknown bodily function.”

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With this much fun on the first day, just imagine the thrills in store for us all as the saga continues on Wednesday.*

Don’t miss the action - subscribe to the Comma in a reader or by email - today.

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*Whatever level of thrillage you just imagined, it was a lowball estimate compared to what is in store for you in the next jaw-dropping chapter of TobogganSearch.

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Although the structure itself looks as if it escaped from a science fiction adventure, the experience so far seems to have been narrated by William Gibson rather than Isaac Asimov.

In fact, it is quite possible that cybernetically enhanced Yakuza enforcers are moving in on us at this very moment.

Either that or some badly dressed tourists.

I sense the hand of Doctor Harold Toboggans at work here.

Does anyone have a private jet I could borrow? A pilot would be good too.

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