Actually, there's no punch line or joke forthcoming, because that's exactly what I did this Tuesday; head down to Staten Island for a blogger debate with my friend and sometime sparring partner Gatemouth, hosted by the Staten Island Democratic Association. Attention whore that I am, I said to myself, "Well, why the fuck not?", and got on the boat. In the dark. By myself.

Now, I like to flatter myself on my gleaming prose and the knife-like penetration of my intellect, which is perhaps an excess of vanity. But to tell you a not very well-kept secret, under the façade, the clipped upper-class English, the designer clothes and the chiseled face, lies a somewhat shy, sweet young man a bit unsure of his place in this world. Fine. The narrow surface part of me, however, the one you'll likely be dealing with unless I choose otherwise, is precisely that façade, and lives for the well-turned phrase or shocking statement, the aforementioned glittering knife in a verbal parry and thrust. If I'm known for anything, that would be it, and that's the part of me that blogs.

My physical comfort zone is also rather narrowly defined: some, not all, parts of New York City, Paris, London, some beach resorts. My world, by and large, ends at the Hudson. As far as my blogging is concerned, like most of my friends, the people who started and defined this medium, I do not shrink from controversy. That's the whole point, isn't it; to tell stories that no other medium will or can touch, and to do so in a voice that demands attention. If I had to give a definition of blogging, that would be it.

So how did I wind up on 'the rock', as it's affectionately called? What with everything else that's going on, Occupy Wall Street, the Netroots New York conference coming up, Thanksgiving, the Presidential campaign, what not else? And me, of course, being, well, me?

Very simple: I was asked. And I'm quite curious. Curious to see what it would be like to debate old Gatey in public, curious to meet these people who wanted to know more about what we do, and lastly, curious to meet a new friend, someone interesting and smart and, I think, special, I met via that Twitter thingie that's consuming altogether too much of my time. Curious, and a bit apprehensive; that whole comfort zone concept.

And you know what? I had a fucking blast. Staten Island Is gorgeous, and the cocktails are cheap. Gatemouth, say what you will, is probably one of the smartest people you'll ever meet in the world of New York politics. That new friend, one Daniel Bauer, is an amazing human being with a fascinating story, one he's just now beginning to tell. A story like that, and the many others like it unfolding day by day in this shining City, are why I started blogging in the first place. These stories are the very fabric of humanity, the messy stuff that makes us fully human. And while my relationship with most Democratic clubs is best described as one of deep and abiding loathing, the good people - and make no mistake, they are good people - at SIDA, could not have been more pleasant. Yes, they took rather pointed exception at my penchant for swearing like a sailor, but what of it? It was their home, not mine.

What I found again that night, when I walked out of that room and left the island, was something I thought I'd lost years ago in the tumult and agonies of my life: the sense of joy and sheer pleasure that writing on a blog used to give me. I have my voice back. There are so many stories to tell. Finally, I can tell them again.

But perhaps I'll swear a bit less going forward. Time will tell.