After having successfully built up my readership to three or four, and then dismantled it, I still let this old blog hang out there as a nostalgic thing. The whole concept played out for me as a kind of writing exercise, and in that way was valuable; yet, it also showed me how writing in this format can trap me in certain habits of thought.
There is a temptation to write to attract random Internet trolls; there is a temptation to write to attract and retain intelligent people; and then there is the temptation to write simply as an excuse to spit up whatever bile I had recently accumulated, as a sort of visceral purging action. That is why I have said that here I intended to write only about things I didn’t care about. All three cases would avoid exposing what I actually care about.
But, really, not only is that contrary to the ideal exercise of the art, it is also contrary to the best practices in spiritual life, mental hygiene, and socialization. “Someday. . .”, I told myself, “someday, I’ll just open up and be who I am, a fully actualized non-pseudonymous person. Someday I’ll just own my pretentious vocabulary and multilayered grammatical structure, my contradictory political views, my prejudices, my heresies, my inappropriate and uncultured observations, and my unfounded assertions.” Yeah, I still think like that. . . like maybe, if I were to collect the best stuff and polish it well, I could at least be proud of the impersonal craftsmanship that went into the book.
That’s really the wrong attitude as well. Instead, it should be all about self-acceptance and forthrightness, that is, not being an anxiety-ridden, self-righteous, somewhat anonymous Internet blog dweeb, reliving ninth grade over and over. I’ll have to work on that.