I want to write again. I don’t know if I have the momentum.
I dearly love people I have met on Twitter, and that’s what occupies most of any “creative”-type time I spend online.
But all that stuff funnels straight down the garbage chute. I thought blogs were ephemeral, but Twitter is ephemeral on ephemeroids.
And, believe it or not, I *do* get tired of desperately trying to please people, something I inevitably fall into when tweeting. Okay, I don’t get tired so much as wearied by it. (P.S. LOVE ME. LOVE MEEEEEEEEEE!) I get my feelings hurt more than I care to admit. Hm. Okay, I just admitted it. Okay, so now, I get my feelings hurt as much as I care to admit. Exactly equivalent to that.
This blog has always been nice for me. And it’s still here, even though I rarely tend to it. It’s a robot pet that just needs its batteries swapped when I want to play.
Here, another metaphor. My blog is an island. It’s mine. You can comment on my island, but I can shoot your comment with a fucking gun. There, I just killed your fucking comment. How does it feel, comment-leaver? Oh, I wouldn’t do that. But I like having SPACE here, on the Interwebs. I even like having a little CONTROL.
On Twitter I’m just an account name and an avatar. My personality does percolate through, but I’m a dot bouncing around in something larger, anonymous and potentially unfriendly.
Hey, I *like* typing things that are longer than 140 characters. I like the idea of wasting page real estate.
Look!
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boggedy boggedy boggedy boggedy boggedy boggedy!
That felt good. So good.
I like existing in space and time. I like leaving a trail. I like blogging.
There’s nothing expected of me here, I know. I could post this and never say another word. But that’s so sad. I want to have a pulse at this blog.
What am I gonna write about? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll make up a robot sister. Maybe I’ll write about my goddamned feelings. But I’d like to have a pulse, to not be confused with something dead.
beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep, etc.
Awesome. I have nothing against Twitter and can I see why people like it, but it was just never a format that interested me. I like the limitlessness of blogging.
Write whatever and whenever, and we’ll read.
And maybe comment.
My own blog has about an inch of dust on the top, but I’m not getting rid of it.
Peace to you, Splotchy,
Bob
I share many of the same feelings you do, about twitter, about trying to please people, and about feelings getting hurt. I try very hard to keep my blog going as well as my Twitter, with inconsistent results. But I try.
Oh, and please don’t shoot me.
Yay! You’re back!
Keeping you on my Follow list has kinda been like leaving the radio on even after your favorite radio station has been knocked off the air. You just wait for it to come back. Because it’s worth it.
Look at that.
You’ve gotten five immediate comments after how long?
We LOOOOOOOve you!
I can’t Twitt for shit….so I do not try.
//What am I gonna write about? I don’t know//
that has always worked for me. I just write it anyways. Hey…you were missed, ya know.
Write about the financial industry. That’s always a guaranteed traffic generator!
You have captured the essence of the appeal of blogging right here in this post. Blogging needs you.