I've toyed briefly with the idea of microblogging (or, even,
microphlogging) a few times.

I think cat sums microblogging up pretty well.

cat writes[1]:
> I could just roll in, spray 140 characters and take off, like
> some asshole yelling from his car as he cruises past.

A few years ago, a certain friend (Hi, you) suggested that I might
enjoy Twitter. Which was probably true. But, after thinking about
it for a moment, my reply was, "but then I wouldn't have so much to
share with you when we hang out." I'm sure we wouldn't run out of
things to talk about, but at the same time I'd enjoy sharing the
interesting tidbits of my life in person so much more than putting
them into some online void that people occasionally peer down into
to see what's there (and maybe throw things into themselves).

Recently, again, while pondering what to do with a new gopherspace
(at grex.org), I thought about starting a microphlog, in addition
to this, my... macrophlog.

If I started a microphlog/microblog, people who read it would fall
into two categories:
 * People who know me
 * People who don't know me

There isn't really enough room in a microblog for people who don't
know me to get something interesting out of it. You could consider
it a form of constrained writing (no doubt people have done this)
and occasionally come up with this gem of literature that fits
within the limits. Probably not that often for me. I like being
able to build up a bigger, fuller picture of an idea, not just
because I want others to get something out of it, but because I get
something out of doing it myself. I'm achieving that while writing
this, and I've been doing it with some of my other exploratory
writing at the moment. Those last two sentences wouldn't fit in a
Tweet.

What about people who know me and read my microblog because it's
written by me? It would be more like a keyhole, rather than a
window, into my life.

	The cracks are what lets the light shine through.

What does that mean? 

Without any context, you might be wondering about my cryptic life
and the pottery course I haven't told you about.

I actually like the above quotation in relation to someone I like.
It's their imperfections--quirks--individualities--call them what
you like--that make me appreciate this person. Perfect would be a
lot less interesting.

221 characters, but more importantly, I wouldn't have gotten there
without writing this whole piece.

[1] gopher://sdf.org:70/0/users/cat/phlog/fs20170616.txt