The search engine optimization on this site is terrible. It makes finding this blog difficult.
Do I fear success? Do I fear public scrutiny?
Would it undermine my motivating artistic intent? Am I simply above it all? (Death to the ego!)
I usually cop out and posit that I am lazy.
Bad writing refuses to make a choice and bores the reader.
Good stories cut through the complicated intersecting narratives of reality and provide the comfort of a straightforward explanation.
Great prose makes the world seem less isolating by revealing the dense humanity of others.
If I had the courage of a poet I might craft something with grace. Fewer still would want to engage, but when they did, what they found would be true. My reputation for posterity would be secure.
Instead, I maintain three internet persona’s. One for my professional life, one for my personal life, and this one.
This one is built on the back of a promoting a book that increasingly fails to represent the person I am today. I still love it, as I love my past self, but it does not fan the same flame for my ego.
Of my three audiences, you are the trusted ones. The ones I can reveal the existence of the others too. Yet I fear that as a result the only content you see is me at my most self-indulgent.
Here is a comforting thought: By revealing petty truths things about ourselves, we can channel our neurosis to provide comfort to others with similar thoughts. We are all less lonely.
This was the Kurt Vonnegut mission statement: “Many people need desperately to receive this message: ‘I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.”
I fling this out into a different world than the one Vonnegut spoke of. A post-livejournal world. A social media world. We can cure the worlds loneliness with small online communities.
Here I share a fractured self, spread too thin.
I send these missives out into the vast internet without so much as decent search engine optimization to guide them.
And then my ego asserts itself, and I contemplate a fourth outlet, where I can build my true immortality project. An autobiography that captures some essence of my biographical self so that some part of my will survive as long as the internet exists.
Oh the folly of ego. You think this is bad? You should see the stuff my pride keeps me from sharing.
Like you, I contain within me multitudes. Seriously.