I don’t have a clever title for this

“How’s that working out for you?”

“What?” 

“Being clever.”

“Great…”

“Keep it up then.”

If I told you how many times that conversation runs through my head you’d think I was nuts. Ah, who am I kidding? You probably already think I’m nuts. And maybe I am…

Or maybe you’re nuts for being here, reading this. We’ll leave that be for now. I hate that being on social media consists of trying to be clever; we claw and scrape and make fools of ourselves for imaginary internet points and fake ass followers. What a fucking joke. It’s not working out for me, folks and I do not want to keep it up. I want out. Fuck being clever.   

Also, I do feel like a crazy person in that it is constantly on my goddamn mind whether I have said something before or not. I wonder if all writers deal with this kind of anxiety? I wonder (constantly): have I said this before? Am I repeating myself? How many times have I written about this? It’s frustrating and maddening. When you have been online as long as I have and written as much material as I have, you’re bound to repeat yourself. I hope it’s not too often. 

I guess this is why some older writers have archivists who know their work inside and out. For the rest of us, us working class unknown dipshits, I guess we’re screwed and doomed to repeat ourselves.  

Anyway, hello. I guess I should update this thing. *looks around* It’s been a while…sheesh.

If there’s one thing I’m consistent about it’s being inconsistent. I have several thoughts rolling around in my head this morning and if I don’t jot them down they’ll be lost to the ether. I’m on my second cup of coffee and the only reason I’m bothering to put any of this down is because it’s pouring outside, otherwise I’d be on my bike. 

I swear to Gawd that if I don’t write something down the minute it’s rolling around in my thick skull, it will be irrelevant in a week’s time or less, more often than not less. It will completely float out of my head and then *POOF* it’s gone forever. Such is the nature of the “news cycle” now. Such is the nature of me now. Such is the nature of life here in the twenty-fucked century. For these reasons I do miss Twitter but more on that later. 

My dilemma is this: I’ll see something I have thoughts about and think: ooh! I want to write about that! That’s clever! Later! Later becomes a week and by then it’s old news and my “passion” for the topic has waned, I get disgusted with the whole thing and then nada. It’s frustrating. 

If you haven’t been paying attention (and who could blame you?), I’ve been blogging over on TinyLetter. I published over a year’s worth of newsletters over there. Don’t bother to go and look now as I’ve archived all of them. They’re gone. POOF! If you read them when they were live, or if you’re a subscriber, lucky you. The rest of you will have to wait and see if any of those make it to an actual print book. And they might. Or maybe not, I haven’t decided yet. 

It dawned on me recently, and by recently I mean this morning, that no one whom used to blog, blogs any more. I can’t remember reading anyone’s blog recently – and I mean people whom I used to read their stuff. It’s all gone. They’re all gone. They’ve all moved on. Blogging completely died and gave way to other mediums but mostly people just stopped. 

Which begs the question(s): what the hell am I doing? Why am I still bothering? 

Good question! 

The amount of time and effort that it takes me to create a good blog is never justified by the attention it receives, which is very little. Woe is me, right? This was the whole reason I stopped doing podcasts; the sheer amount of time it took to create one was ridiculous and there was little to no payoff. So I stopped doing that. I might stop blogging also. I haven’t made up my mind yet. 

Everything online shifted from the way it used to be a decade ago and now everything is very brief, curt, short, instant and disposable. It’s also very visual and auditory. No one writes anything because no one reads anything, hence you see my dilemma.

Side note: it’s hilarious to me that I don’t communicate with anyone in the “writing community” anymore. I’m a leper in that circle and that suits me just fine. I am too profane, uncouth and not refined enough for that fart snigging high society. Fuck em. Bunch of phonies anyway. 

Anyway, there’s internet shorthand for TL:DR, which means too long, didn’t read; it’s code for if this was too long read here’s a short summary. This is telling in that our brains are fried and no one has patience for anything beyond a few seconds. Hell, if you’re still reading this it’s a miracle. 

This is where Twitter rears its ugly head again, as does my addiction to wanting to “share” my thoughts on things – goddamn this drug. I will never go back to Twitter but the desire to return there is definitely still there, despite knowing that it could never be the way it used to be. That time is dead. 

But it’s such a perfect medium for what I used to call: vomiting your mind online.  I miss puking my thoughts out about any given topic at any given time, having a captive audience and then flushing the internet toilet and moving on. That’s what Twitter was good for and that’s what I miss. No mas. 

It I did get back on Twitter I’d likely get banned in a short amount of time for thought crime and I have no interest in that. Believe it or not, you used to be able to say whatever the fuck you wanted online and it was fantastic. As I said, that time has passed. 

So, what to do? There simply is no other medium for that. Instagram is not the place for “words,” so I created a personal blog and that was OK for a while until it became work and became rather redundant – again, it’s the wrong medium for what I was wanting to do. It ended up being like epic Twitter rants condensed into one long read. It also became too personal, which was not my goal for that. 

So, where to go from here? I’m not sure. I have a few ideas.  

All of this (writers will understand this) has been a giant and extended fuck around (see: procrastination) from writing my next book. I’m lazy and have also dealt with creative block for some time now. Of course, I have ideas for books in my head, the trouble is staying motivated enough to bring them to life. Again, it’s a lot of work for little payoff. Social media gets in the way of this process as does blogging about bullshit. It goes without saying: life gets in the fuckin’ way! 

As I’ve said many times before, I should just shut the fuck up and write. I’m tempted to just go dark and then not reappear again until I publish another book – that’s very tempting. I don’t think many would notice anyway. 

Part of the problem is that I really don’t have anything coherent to put anywhere so ranting has been my weapon for a choice for far too long. I’ve held back many things that need to go into a book however. 

Nothing much excites me these days. Everything is banal, boring, dead, limp, lifeless copies of already fetid, rotting, horseshit. I am, in a sense, over it. Whatever it is. Truth be told I was over it a long time ago.  Still, I persist. I’m stubborn that way. 

I kind of marvel at what we’ve created and wonder when it will all come crashing down. Surely we’re not destined to take pictures of ourselves and our food for the rest of the century…are we? Maybe we are. I don’t know. I don’t care anymore. I’m unplugged from most of that shit anyway.  

Here’s what I do know: I’m not done, at least not yet. I’ve slowed down considerably, true! But I’m not done.

I need to get off my ass and finish my next book – it’s definitely fucking time. I think I shall keep my Instagram strictly visual for now – no words. I will save my words for the printed page. 

TL:DR: I still have a few tricks up my sleeve so stay tuned. Thanks for stopping by. 

~C/S~

 

 

 

 

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