Monday, February 5, 2018

8 Years and 365 Posts Later

Wow. Today marks going into year eight of this blog. Eight years! Well seven full years but damn. This will be post 366. Crazy. I think very soon I can say that I’m truly the last blogger alive. As you know, every Monday (with a few Tuesdays because I was travelling or too hung over/forgot) I bang on the keys and post it with little thought that it might actually be read. I’ve never had a comments section. I don’t want a dialogue. What I want is a place where I can be wholly maniacal in my brain splats and unpopular opinions.

Why do I keep doing it?! I really grumble and ask this of myself quite often, but then I think it is a fair question to ask: Why?

For people who know me IRL, I’m a quick person. I’m one of those people that don’t have any unread emails or messages or any red dots on any to do list. Hyper-productivity is the conditioning state that I thrive best in within this Capitalist structure that we are all looping in.

Labor. We are all producing or consuming labor at all times. I guess, in some bizarro-land way, my attitude is that because this is the state of things (unless you’re off the grid and you are not even reading this) and because there are really very few options within this system, the little that you can control, you should, you must. One of my ways of doing this is by being hyper productive.

I feel if I give more energy/labor/time/all of it out then perhaps there is some balancing out of all that I take in and consume from others/by others. This is daft in the big idea way but perhaps not. I actually never thought about it that much until today but ya, trying to figure out why I’m compelled to write each week and do the variety of other things I do is something to analyze I guess.

The reason why I started this thing was because my brain hurts when I have an idea and I can’t get it out. I’m not an artist but that doesn’t mean I don’t have crazy ideas that spin and connect in abstractions and then into form. In 2011 I felt like I didn’t have access or privilege or power to any apparatus that would actually validate let alone PAY me for excavating my brain into words. I still lack those things but the motivation is different now.

Now, this blog thing has become a creature of its own making. It has to be fed. Every week, I chop chop chop at the keys to make a word salad. It’s a form of something and until blogger goes defunct, I’ll keep chugging along, one of the useless in the meaningless void of meandering thoughts.

Another reason why I still do this is because I truly don’t care. I don’t care about the formality, the punctuation, even the spelling, (obvi if you read this at all). I don’t care about being polite although I’m not a caustic bitch because that’s just not my style.

My lack of caring is because I do care. I care about words, ideas, ART! And thinking about it and writing about it to understand it even just for myself feels like a survival instinct.

This is my bag, this is my thing that I have done/do but I really think other people should do things in similar ways. Not the same way, you find your own form and intention etc. but the idea of doing something sort of sloppy, messy, uncool, dumb even and exposing that is interesting/challenging/fun. There is so much restraint, control and manicuring of self-image and thoughts that it’s really a boring shame.

Art is supposed to be messy and full of failures. Writing in the most democratic of forms. Essentially free and with so much power in so many ways that it will never fully submit to forms of mastery or ownership.

Whatever it is that allows you to be more yourself/less yourself, do it. Do it and don’t care what it all means. It means nothing, everything means nothing, but it’s there and it means something to you and maybe if you’re lucky a few others.

I’m rambling at this point and getting all inspirational vibes but ya… I was appalled then happy to realize I have been doing this damn thing for so long and for those that read it, any of it at all, Thank You.

I don’t care what you think about it but I care about you.

If I’m still doing this after 20 years I’m going to throw a big party! (maybe)