I blog therefore I am.
I blog the fact that I am a person, which is a blogging thing, which blogs this information now. Blogging that fact determines, as well as records, the fact of my blogging, the fact that I blog and what I blog, and therefore of my being the blogger of said facts.
The truth-claim contained in the blog that I blog represents the 'I am' of the blogger, true or false. I choose which facts to include - and which to exclude - in the blog, which represents only a partial - and therefore slanted - account of any topic I choose. How can such a tiny sliver of the possible facts surrounding such a tiny sliver of the possible topics available to such a tiny sliver of personal experience be 'true' - except as a sample of the many 'true' statements that could be blogged.
Selecting which facts to blog about which topics is the game. Topics suggest themselves while the blogger reads, eats, practices taiji, builds a fence; facts line up under said topics, confirming or negating their blogability. Mental notes are made (hmm, I oughta blog that) and either written down or not. Titles are chosen, sometimes fueling the blogging and sometimes just lying there lifeless for days, finally succumbing to deletion. Occasionally a first draft makes it to the light of day, but more often a mere sprout of a blog sits there, saved, until repeated attention fleshes it out so it's ready to stand on its own.
If a blog is posted on the site, and there's nobody there to read it, is it published?
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1 comment:
While I don't put it in exactly those words, I feel the same thing at times.
Especially the notion that bloggable topics are always presenting themselves, and if I don't strike at them quickly they will disappear into the unbloggable ether possibly never to return.
My largest frustration in my (almost a year!) of blogging is that many times I have SEEN a blog in my mind's keyboard; I have seen the progression of ideas, the construction of sentences, observations, witticisms . . . but I have waited too long. I am not skilled enough to retain the inspiration and simply call it forth when the time allows.
I supposed that is why many (if not all?) famous artists were unsocial beings. Did they fear missing the opportunity to strike when their ideas overwhelmed them?
(Did I just try to compare my pitiful blogging empire to Michaelangelo's Pieta? Whoa . . .)
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