Wednesday, January 26, 2011

tired of this stuff

i have been writing this blog -- or slog, as i like to think of it -- for several weeks now, and it seems to me that it's boring to write a blog, and boring to read a blog -- or slog.

if i were paid to write this, i'd spend a lot more time on it, and i'd take the time to edit and polish my work. as it is, i'm forcing myself to add to it without any real commitment of time or energy to it -- i plunk something down just to be able to say i've done it.

i realize that there's no reason to read it, so i'm not at all surprised that no one has. i don't normally search for blogs, either. i catch a few regularly, that i feel have reached a high level of quality content, and display a lot of time and effort applied to their continual updating.

what's wrong with blogging or slogging or whatever the fuck it is i'm doing here is the problem with the internet in general: anyone can publish, anyone can establish a presence, but unless you have some financial backing or are just bursting with energy and enthusiasm, you can't put a quality product out there with any regularity, and keep up a rigorous schedule that will keep traffic coming your way.

that's the problem with the internet in general, i think. there's so much content out here, but it's the efforts of people doing what they love, or what they're passionate about, and that's find but it doesn't pay the bills. so if you use a tool like the blogger platform, you're providing content to drive traffic to someone else's site. if you monetize your site and manage to drive traffic to it, at some level you can make it generate some income, but not the kind of income someone would need to live off of.

i'm sure all of us pounding away at our keyboards and imparting our wisdom to the world are thinking big: that our ideas will resonate with others who lurk nearby, just as eager as they can be to stumble upon our earth-shattering take on the contemporary scene...

or else we're not. we're just slogging through it, day by day, trying to pick up a rhythm, find our voices, make some observation that's relevant to something or someone somewhere. not to become an overnight sensation, a literary justin bieber or other tacky pseudo celeb in the 15-second glare of the internet spotlight.

i'd love to get some hate mail if nothing else, frankly, because it would inspire me to put a little more heart into it, but i'm so bored with my own ideas that i can't even outrage the outraged mob. think about it.

so many live in obscurity, soldier on knowing that no one hears them, no one takes them seriously. i'm convinced this sense of powerless -- twisted around in one way or another -- is what drives some loner reject to buy a 9 mm pistol and release his anger on the indifferent mass of people that float by like dumbo at the thanksgivings day parade.

i read one woman's blog, just one post, where she spoke of trying to put the pieces of her life together, finding herself in middle age, newly divorced and out there on her own. the internet and the blogosphere is not the place to find love, i'm afraid -- or sympathy or even acknowledgement. it's a cold, empty space that we're filling just briefly with a warm cloud of our breath.

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