About two years ago I moved back to my hometown, in Alabama. My very small, very fundamentalist hometown. Since college I’d lived in the big cities of Atlanta and New York. New York, mostly. So moving to a small town in Alabama was…an adjustment. It was an adjustment in the sense that moving to Borneo would be an adjustment for someone unaccustomed to thongs as everyday wear.

Not that they wear thongs in Alabama. Well, not that you’d ever know it – those tiny slits of fabric would vanish immediately, never to be heard from again. And not that I’m completely opposed to thongs. I mean, I am. Utterly and completely opposed to them.

But on the right guy…Never say never.

And so, here we are. After that unnecessary stop-over in Borneo, we’ve arrived finally at the crux of my predicament: I am a man opposed to thongs, in theory, but unopposed entirely to the right pair of buttocks they reveal. There is a word for this kind of man, this tolerator of thongs on perfectly-shaped male buttocks. Unfortunately that word , accurate as it may be – accurate to the point of cliché, in my case – implies a certain degree of gleefulness, happiness, cheer.

In that sense, I am so not gay.

Perception, to paraphrase the old song lyric, is a many-splintered thing.  Fleeting. Mercurial.  Quixotic.  And in the case of this blogger:  neurotic, at best.

 And so it is with this blog.

My purpose here – and the purpose of my fellow bloggers, as they arrive, one by one — is not to write about other people: celebs, politicians, movers ‘n shakers. There’s already plenty of that on the web.

Instead, we’ve come here to talk about ourselves, to expose our innermost thoughts, in all their mundanity and/or profundity. And while we always hope for the latter, we’re certain to deliver far more of the former, (what with our preoccupation with celebs, politicians and movers ‘n shakers.)

So, come early, stay late.  And feel free to join in the conversation.

Oh yeah, I’m Roy.  And you are?