It’s funny, that blog depression thing, silly as it is, distills something floating in the ether for a lot of us who’ve been blogging for a while. Something about the point where the blog stops being an outlet and starts being something else, a frustration, a responsibility.
We always say to each other, like some twelve-step sponsor saying no don’t take a drink, ‘don’t stop, just take a break.’ But there’s the need to make some stupid self-destructive gesture. It’s not the stopping we want, it’s the feeling of putting a bullet in its head.
But that’s the sort of pointless thing we all know is stupid even as we say it.
Still, I understand. I’ve had moments. I’ve twice taken my blog down in rage and frustration, moved it all aside, a mental ‘to be deleted’ tag on the files. One ‘rm blog/*‘ command from nuking the files, one click of the ‘delete this blog’ button. I know I won’t do it, I’ve deleted work before and always, always regretted it. But there’s that moment, like a bridge jumper thinking I could, but today I won’t.
There’s empty beauty in pointless gestures. Silent sorrow in empty boats.