Narcotic
I write this not condescendingly but reflectively, for I too am guilty.
I can see blogging as becoming something like a crutch. An addicting habit of release, which is not at all bad, but can perhaps become a dependacy. "I can't get through my day without letting others know just how so-miserable I am" or "I am a wise sage. Every word out of my mind is a drop of pure gold. Heed it well" or the lollipopped "I had a good day"/"I had a bad day", etc.
But, the fact is, none of this is real/tangible. I am not really talking to a friend or anyone in the 'present' sense, that is, engaging face-to-face, reading the facial gestures, tone of voice, pauses, witnessing the errors/corrections. Is he tired, excited, bored, does he want lunch, are we silent and need to be alone, apart? I guess I'll leave these problems up tp the writer's out there.
What if...Blogger.com crashes. All blogs are lost forever, the hardrive was burnt to a shiny-black crisp.
Now, enter the dependant blogger. He relies upon this as his only form of communication. He finds blogging as the only way to vent his frustrations with life, love and hippies. He has tried keeping a journal, but this depresses him because even though it is a release, it lacks the social support. He can't talk to people, though. He finds them wierd, fake. There is no way to 'figure them out'; "why are they so complicated"?
Netscape is executed, his blopspot routinely opens:
'Due to a massive failure, Blogger.com will be offline for an undetermined time. We are terrible sorry for the inconvenience. Please check back in a few months.
~ Google Blog Team, 2005'
What does the vulnerable blogger do?
posted by Dan Grove @ 9:36 AM
2 comments
2 Comments:
Step one: he takes up smoking.
Step two: he begins to haunt local coffee shops
Step three: he buys several overpriced moleskin notebooks and carries them in one of those male handbags, which have now lost all connotations of questionable sexuality.
Step four: he takes up jazzhouse-going and yells, "yes, yes! Mmmmm," as the musicians play.
Step five: back at the coffee shop, he begins to laugh nervously at jokes and stories from tables around him. The people stare at him, bewildered. His face contorts into awkward smiles and then into blankness. He alternates for a moment. Then looks down.
Step six: strange late night phone calls to people he knows. He doesn't leave his name or say anything coherent.
Step seven: he invites himself to a farewell dinner, a few acquaintences are having for one of their friends. They don't want him there. He arrives early, drinks two bottles of champaigne before the others arrive, and paces by their table for the entirety of their dinner.
Step eight: He goes to a whorehouse.
Step nine: He goes underground. He begins to write in the journal, not for release, but to further his isolation and depression.
Step ten: he dies, unnoticed by the city.
Ha! That's great! I actually had no idea what to do after that line and just stopped. But, that was fantastic!
Tell me if that was enjoyable or not, too. I wouldn't mind putting one up again some time later. Just to keep things interesting.
By the way, I have finished Lost/Cosmos and will venture on to Message/Bottle (330+pgs!) after I finish Modern/Assy (these slashes are becoming silly). The book is called Modern Sacred Art and the Church of Assay by William S. Rubin and it came highly recommended through Ed Knippers (see side link) at the 25th CIVA (see side link) conference.
So far the book has run through a little history of sacred art up until ‘now’ (the 50’s for the book) and will then describe the birth and decoration of this Church of Assy. In it there are sacred works by Rouault (no link yet), Lurçat (?), Léger (?), Lipchitz (hm..yes), Chagall, Bonnard, Matisse, and Richier (?). The chapel was a major step in pioneering the advancing forms of art for sacred places.
So, that’s all.
Ciao,
Dan
I’ll e-mail you some time this week, maybe.
Post a Comment
<< Home