crested wave

Does it ever seem like somehow, without anyone planning it, blogging just sort of ended? I look over the list of blogs I generally follow (almost to a one they’re friends blogs, though some only after I began to follow as a reader), and on by one, they’re quitting, going on extended hiatus, moving, or […]

Does it ever seem like somehow, without anyone planning it, blogging just sort of ended?

I look over the list of blogs I generally follow (almost to a one they’re friends blogs, though some only after I began to follow as a reader), and on by one, they’re quitting, going on extended hiatus, moving, or just sort or dying of attrition.

Is it just my circle? Have we just sort of all spent our wad, as it were, all at the same time? Or is it everywhere?

Maybe a wave just crested; to mis-quote Hunter S Thompson, maybe we’re at that place where the wave finally brakes and rolls back.

Or maybe we’re just all too busy; we’ve built a debt of wasted time and now we need to pay, working harder for all the time we spent blogging about the work were were not getting done.

I’m not sure what it is; but it seems to be going on everywhere.

Maybe it’s that we’re so over-saturated with outlet. Facebook, myspace, meebo, bebo, flickr, fetlife; twitter and jaiku and plurk and pownce, orkut and friendster, okcupid, adult-freind-finder, livejournal, and a hundred more college boys are hacking up now.

We have so many places to talk about ourselves, that no one can ever find each other; and when we do, who can read it all?

Or maybe it’s me; maybe I’m just tired of reading and not writing. Because, egotist that I am, I cannot read a blog when comments are off, cannot browse a forum unless I’m signed on to post. Maybe my own failure of output deadens my desire for input.

Yet, still, I see blogs ending all around me, writers closing doors vocally or silently. It means something, even if I’m not sure what.

What’s interesting, though, is that I suddenly feel motivated to create. And I know, this time, exactly why. Several friends from other sites have, lately, happened upon my fiction; and their interest, their feedback, sparks my desire, sparks my writer’s voice. I remember why i did this.

I’ve never been that kind of artist who creates for the act of creation, then destroys of gives away. I’ve never been the un-signed artist who leaves beauty scattered behind. I create, simply, because it feels so very good to give that gift to someone. It is, almost exactly, like the engendering orgasm; that moment of power, control. I am, completely and utterly, in control of your pleasure and pain, and I see/feel/hear it.

It isn’t simply the joy of creation; it’s the joy on control, the joy on causing joy.

I like to think, given the tools, and the solitude, I would create. Mountain top, or dungeon cell, or lonely island, I would create to create. But in truth I wouldn’t. I’d do what I’ve been doing the last two years; I’d start, and then I’d start again, and then I’d start again, and never finish. Creating for no one is masturbation with no orgasm, it’s cooking food no one will eat.

Art should be for arts sake, we like to say, but I cannot find my creativity there. I find it in my audience.

My hope – and it may be in vain, because time is never on my side these days – is that an audience of only one, may be enough.

Who knows, though. Maybe flood-gates will open, not just for me but for all of us. Maybe we just need something to write about.

0 thoughts on “crested wave”

  1. Dude. I barely have time to read blogs. Now you load me up with the guilt associated with me not blogging! Ack!

    I have had some very blogable (oh, my dictionary doesn’t know that word!) things happen to me lately. But I seem to have a threshold somewhere between Twitter’s 140 character limit and a full page for a blog.

    I really should look into tumblr or some quick blogging software. I like the prettiness of iWeb, but it’s HTML is kinda borked and I find it cumbersome to launch, edit, update, post, check and publish.

    But, having said that… I love your posts. ::big hug::

  2. I don’t want to go on the cart!

    So, yeah, not quite dead-by-attrition, but probably not far behind. I tend to Twitter a bit more, because it’s easier to do it on the go.

    Funny thing is, the sorts of things I used to write about back in the day are things I’m not interested in writing about any more. I’m no longer suffering from an unrequited love. I’m kinda burnt out on politics. Yes, things are still happening in my life. Some of them even marginally interesting. But the NEED to write about them has dissipated. It’s happened before, but I’ve always ended up coming back. I’m sure that’ll be case again. I tend not to even comment often during these down periods.

    But I still read and smile and laugh and cry at those blogs that I still frequent, the majority of which I’ve been reading for 7, 8, 9 years. They’re still around and so am I.

    Thanks for still being around, K.E. You do still rock.

  3. Does it ever seem like somehow, without anyone planning it, blogging just sort of ended?

    I’ve been thinking that for months. It’s hard to find anything interesting in it anymore, both in reading or writing.

  4. “like the engendering orgasm; that moment of power, control. I am, completely and utterly, in control of your pleasure and pain, and I see/feel/hear it. ”

    ok that is not only HOT but beautiful as well. YOu know i am a HUGE fan of your writing..so write on borther! write for me..i’ll eat it up! lap it right out of your hands!

    I welcome all readers and comments to my blog…feel free.
    oh, and yeah you are also freakin’ sexy..that helps a lot too!

    xoxox
    cyn

  5. Oh wait… You mean I had a blog? I forgot it after my vacation. When I came back and found a party by teenagers. Peanut butter on the window, clove cigarette, my bed remade, and my credit cards missing. Death by something over there anyway…

    I like twitter. It’s flighty and flirty.

    I like… this part “Creating for no one is masturbation with no orgasm,” Somehow I can see you deciding that would be fun thing to ask someone to do, and then you also said this… “It is, almost exactly, like the engendering orgasm; that moment of power, control. I am, completely and utterly, in control of your pleasure and pain, and I see/feel/hear it.”

    WOW! Sexual, powerful and creative. You give me joy. Oh yes. I love to read this. Write on- for you are a Master and creative.

  6. “We have so many places to talk about ourselves, that no one can ever find each other; and when we do, who can read it all?”

    That’s the money quote, right there.

    I’d also interpret it as possibly running along the lines of Maslow’s hierarchy; we had our outlets, and for a time they served. But now we need more.

    What’s “more”? I don’t know.

    It is marvelously ironic –and interesting– though, that we can be so incredibly well connected and yet feel fundamentally lonely.

    Too bad there are no real pubs on the net. Bogart used to say that the whole trouble with the world is that everybody was three drinks behind, and he ain’t wrong, especially today.

  7. I recognize myself as one of the deceased (although, my eyelids do occassionally flutter, so maybe I’m just in a coma)and it makes me sad, too. But, I figure, it’s better to say nothing than something stupid. *shrug*

    I do hope you write something. Something steamy and sadistic. Something filled with passion, pain and a little bit of crazy.

    I’ll devour every word.

    Eve

  8. Cut all the dead wood and use as a switch on the alive and kicking to get the blood going.

    I have way too many awesome ideas to stop blogging anytime soon. As long as there are potential sex partners and fetishes galore, I will be golden. xoxo

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