Well here we are then. This Friday the blog turns one. I’m not entirely sure how that happened. I started out on my journey into the seething maelstrom of the blogosphere with no destination in mind, no plan, no back-up, no ideas worth a damn. I left myself at the mercy of whatever fevered and diseased thoughts popped into my head, flying my blog airship by the seat of my mind-pants. Because my mind does indeed have pants, for it is a decent and upstanding mind that does not believe in gross public mental-nudity. Over the year the blog’s evolved from a rudderless catastrophe to a blog where I talk about writing and share what I create as I vainly try to make my way into a world saturated by a million other wannabes. The blog is still a catastrophe, but it is, at least, a directed and focused catastrophe.
I honestly didn’t think I’d make it as far as I did. I thought I’d try my very bestest the churn out a post a week, on something, anything. I expected to make it a couple of months before losing patience and motivation; the blog-ship would start to list dangerously, it’d start to lose lift and I’d start sinking through the foetid clouds like a big, fat stone made of cloth and iron. Finally crash landing in the great blog-graveyard beneath the swirling mists of words, the place where the discarded shells of old blogs lie strewn across the landscape, their corpsey husks half buried in toxic, black mud. This didn’t happen. I’m still going, fifty-seven posts and I’m still going. Sure, there was a blip in July but I was moving house and had no internet. As soon as I had internet I fixed that, I kept going. And I sure as hell don’t plan on stopping.
Well perhaps need is too strong a word, perhaps “would actually rather like your assistance” is more apt. It is my understanding that to become internet famous you need to reach out to your readership, make them feel involved, engage with them. That or have tits. Without the required secondary X chromosome for the latter I’ve decided that it would be more prudent to attempt the former. Continue reading
I started this blog on a dark and gloomy night in the closing days of February. Now it is five months later and I’m somehow still going. It does pain me somewhat to say that I’m going to have to stop, at least for a little while.
I’ve never really had a blog before. I’ve had things which could be used as vectors into the swirling maelstrom of the blogsphere, but I’ve never had anything which from the outset has been purely “a blog”. This little venture is the first time I’ve actually ventured out into the cruel world of the internet thinking “This will be a blog! And I shall fill it with words! It shall be glorious and all shall wonder at my witticisms.” Sure once I had a livejournal, but that was back in the days before facebook. Back when the wasn’t really any other options, it was the done thing. In my defence I was also still an agnsty teen, riddled with insecurities and self-loathing. To counterpoint this, the only thing that’s really changed is my age.
I’ll confess I’ve always been somewhat reluctant to start a blog. The idea has previously never sat well with me. As if blogging is something dark, sinster and slightly taboo. The type of thing you only speak about in hushed tones and even then only when your mother’s out of the room. The idea of blogging used to make me feel soiled and dirty. I suspect it was the fact that everyone else was doing it; as we all know the proletariat are as great as they are unwashed. There was also the lingering fear that when push came to shove I probably wouldn’t have anything interesting to say. That I would in fact just be vomiting anger and bile into the void of cyber-space. Chances are that’s all I’ll end up doing anyway, but now the idea doesn’t sound so terrible. Especially when some people I know actually said that if I put my angry rants into words and posted them on the internet they’d read them. But these people are my long suffering house-mates and I’ve always suspected they treat me like one would treat a dangerous mental patient: humour them until such a point as you can safely make the dash to the panic room.
My journey to the blogsphere has been long. My refusal to blog was at first resolute and unshakable. But over the years it’s been chipped away, bit by bit. As if a tiny little daemon has been whispering in my ear “you should start a blog”. After a while it just becomes too much effort to resist. And I’ve never been one for effort. Eventually the dark and malevolent force tempting you doesn’t seem so bad. I used to hold the same opinion about Twitter and eventually I gave in. Sometimes I feel like I’m working my way up hierarchy of internet drugs facebook, twitter then blogging. Those three being speed, crack and heroin respectively. Perhaps I’m being to too hard on blogging. It’s probably more like ether, not so addictive but at the end of the day “there’s nothing more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge”.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was an strange and mystical Irish-man. He informed me that no one in the blogsphere has anything interesting to say and that the entire vista of the blogworld is built on a foundation of lies and deceit. Just like everything else. I suspect he’s a manifestation of that daemon who’s been whispering in my ear all these years. After all no human could have eyes like his. That cold blue-grey like ancient lake ice, boring right down into you soul and stealing all your secrets. Or not.
So here I am over half a thousand words into my inaugural blog post. I suspect I should curtail my rambling. Truth be told I have no idea where this entire blog is going to go, what strange and unforeseen directions it will take. But I shall plough bravely on into the uncharted regions of the blogsphere, plotting my course by whimsy and fancy alone. I’d like to think I’m doing all of this in an airship, because when you get right down to it: airships are fucking awesome.