Our Little Efforts

It's funny to me, the little attempts us "bloggers" make to keep our sites going. To keep getting "pinged", and keep accumulating those page hits. We're just junkies for recognition. Some of us/ them/ whatever have a real voice, but the rest of us are busy expending our energy on something that doesn't amount to any more than hanging around a big fucking water cooler. For some of us, the pay off is even less direct than that, because some of us (like me) can go for years and not hear a single damn thing from a single damn soul. The fact is that most of us are just floating around in the dark; clueless as to how to approach honesty, or truth, or accurately convey even our own desires. Is this for anyone, or just for us? Does it help us sleep at night, or it is just another manifestation of one of humanities most pronounced manias: to be connected. There is also the compulsive element of tracking the page hits as they come in. The sense of accomplishment we feel when 6 people in one day stumbled through our URL; which says nothing to the extent that they actually read, or thought about anything we had to say. They were just here. Customers walking into your store (as many as 5 in a day) but none of them buying a damn thing. It's like self-validating by bumping into people on the street. I say all of this now because I look back at my own little corner of the increasingly broad, complex, and angular internet, and I just see an attempt to milk relevance. The last month has been filler. Plain and simple. I'm a cad. I'm a coward. Or maybe I have been thinking, but I haven't felt that any other part of existence need have anything to do with me. That's how it is, right? We're all in this alone, and no blog, no zine, no book, no record, will pull us out of our own voids. I don't know what I am doing, or why at this point, but energy is flaking off of me daily, and sometimes it might take the form of words. WORDS...