that indefinable something

What is it about the blogs that you visit regularly? Why do you return over and over? Can you define what interests you about the writing? Is it some kind of ritual? Are you living vicariously through the writer? Do you see undeniable commonalities between the two of you? Do you have a love-hate relationship?

From the perspective of this host, I am primarily producing this journal to exercise my writing mind, not to entertain or engage. This, altogether unique, format allows and encourages such self interest. It lets me remotely stimulate the other recesses of my mind that are responsible for, say, creating works bound for a more traditional readership and a grotesquely lucrative film deal. I do as I please, and I imagine if you have read a few posts you will see that this practice is a badge of honour for forthenthtime.

So is that why the only hits I receive come from referrers, or is it deeper than that? Most blogs are pure narcissism, just as this is, so why do some of them have Amazon wish lists being fulfilled by dewy-eyed strangers? Well, Timmy, it's just that some have got better at wrapping it up and passing it off as endearing, benign storytelling.

Apologies to the easily upset, or those with 300 links to endlessly happy bloggers in their bookmarks. I just refuse to sit idly by as the endless parade of manufactured bliss and emoticons troll by. It's why the world is what it is - veneer and subterfuge.

If they all just quit it and revealed how upset, frightened, unaware, outraged, disturbed, depressed, unsure, clueless, lost, drunk, hurt, broken, aimless, apathetic, manic, disillusioned, pained and blank they were - at least some of the time - we might start to make some headway towards a world that functions as it should.

Please let me know if you find someone kicking that off. In the mean time I'll do my best to keep spouting banal, but essentially honest, rubbish over here.