Thursday, May 26, 2011
It's obvious that Cal, a glib little British puppy who's nearly 21, is also trying to creep into the world of storytellers. Reading his blog is like window shopping at Christmas. It's all snapshots of silliness and droll, nimble conversations lightly peppered with some distancing snark and I usually finished each post feeling glad but a bit lonely. There's very little scandal going on, unless you count being in a healthy homosexual relationship a scandal, like those assholes up in Wisconsin. I like him. I really, really like him. I even like his template, except for the centered column.
Cal's writing is calm and honest, conversational and hopeful, all about having good friends and goofy parents, and just...being twenty. Being twenty was awesome, wasn't it? The world is just spread out there for you, all shiny and rippled and just waiting to be fucked, and you haven't screwed anything up yet by falling into unflattering light.
The (Not So) Fabulous Life of Cal never really dives into raw emotion, but love is lingering in the alcoves. The main difference between Cal's writing and other blogs that focus on light daily life stories is the fact that he's not trying to impress readers with individuality and sassy banter. Of course there is sassy banter, but it's just friends dicking around. It comes across as more of a tribute to the people he loves. That's fucking valid.
The last couple of months on the blog are stretched like a chore. And that's my main criticism of Cal's blog: I was hoping his storytelling and characters would grow and develop, I was hoping to read about new jobs and uncharted waters and becoming an adult.
But he hasn't written on the blog since February, which is a big fat bummer. I want to know what he's up to. I want to introduce him to my friend's little brother, so Cal can show him a young, positive role model.
I don't know what's going on. I like everyone lately. Maybe I'm growing.