Is there anything more literally ephemeral than blogging? My Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the one that came with a magnifying glass, because the Compact Edition "micrographically" squeezes so much into two volumes, illuminates this ephemeral business.
Blog readers (and blog writers) (are both blog readers and blog writers called bloggers?) typically fixate on the latest, the most recent, post. More or less. How often does anyone stretch back into the archives to explore a particular blogger's oeuvre? Relatively rare, right? I mean, like who has the time (assuming one is gainfully employed and performing one's prescribed duties; why do I suddenly sound so feckin snotty and uppercrust British? Is it the dust from the OED?)?
According to the OED, an ephemeris is (or was), among other things:
a daily diary
a table showing the predicted position of a heavenly body for every day (I'm picturing a Salma Hayek Kama Sutra Educational Desk Calendar with 365 exquisite photos)
any almanac or calendar (if you insist, yes, it could be a swimsuit calendar, cheescake or beefcake genre, to be fair and balanced)
the appointed daily order of religious services (well, no surprise here; like Leonard Cohen, I can see how sex and religion easily get intertwined, like bodies on a hot night, or like clouds of incense rising to the heavens)
So, of course, an ephemerist is one who makes use of an ephemeris (as in blogging).
And ephemera literally refers to "lasting for a day," originally describing a fever or a type of insect.
We got the fever.
We are the ephemeral, the diurnal insects of cyberworld, liable to be squashed any nanosecond by a server meltdown or cybercollapse.
We bloggers are truly The Ephemerists.
Here today. Gone tomorrow. (Unless you're into archives.)
P.S. Speaking of diurnal, in browsing through my OED I discovered that a diurnalist is another word for a journalist. Makes sense. Carry on. As you were. See you tomorrow. Or another day. Cheerio.