TO BLOG OR NOT TO BLOG (2.)
Itís 9.40 PM. Iím sitting here at my fatherís old Victorian desk. Just on the edge of clear audibility the Ambient channel of my favourite Internet radio station is burbling dreamily. A large Lagavulin single malt, all the way from the Isle of Islay, sits cold & smoky in a crystal tumbler. The only light in the room is shed from the stainless steel anglepoise that leans over the keyboard. Iím sitting here wondering why it is that virtually every evening I am drawn back inexorably to this padded chair, this rosewood desk, this keyboard, this wormhole into cyberspace ñ drawn back to this weblog, named flippantly after only a few seconds reflection because this would be only a passing fad, a brief indulgence, like CB radio or going to the gymÖ
Well, if Iíd hoped for realisation to dawn somewhere during the writing of that first paragraph, I sit here now, disappointed. All I know at this point is that, compulsively, I have to pursue this particular theme from inception, through structuring & shaping, to completion. At which juncture ñ probably some time after midnight - I shall copy the document from Word, save the original to the Weblog folder in My Documents, seek out an appropriate graphic, load it onto my desktop weblog & then paste the Word copy around or beneath it. Then, with a sense of a task consummated, I shall upstream it & go to bed.
But why? To whom am I addressing it? For whose benefit am I ordering my thoughts, honing my aphorisms, buffing up my anecdotes, polishing my little wisdoms? Well, I know that these are not soliloquies that I compose, internal monologues intended for an audience of one, addressing neuroses, straightening out kinks. These rants & diatribes arenít part of some self-healing therapy process. Nor are they the monomaniac outpourings of an over-developed ego, aimed at some vast, captive cyberspace constituency hungry for enlightenment & guidance. Theyíre not even refined versions of the shouting delivered from the football terrace or from behind the wheel of the car when caught in traffic.
They are none of these things. They are instead ponderings, queries, declarations, challenges, bulletins from my sector of the frontline & they are targeted at you. And you are the casual passer-by who might be drawn into conversation & who might, on the strength of it, come back for more, or you are one of the handful of faithful chums who already checks out this weblog whenever itís updated. Because for me a weblog is, first & foremost, about interaction. I neither want nor would I expect the material that I post simply to be absorbed unquestioningly any more than I would be indifferent if it were entirely ignored. Iím looking for acknowledgement; Iím looking for reciprocation; Iím looking for what every writer who places material in the public arena seeks most avidly: a sense of communion. This is what drives my impulse to maintain this blog & itís what continues to motivate me after 10 months of relative anonymity within the Salon community.
I shall post this now. It may provoke comment; it may slide past unnoticed. But, in company with bloggers across the wide reaches of cyberspace, I shall continue to babble compulsively, like the idiot in the town square, more in hope than expectation of reaching the multitudes.
11:59:09 PM 
|
|
