Last week a friend said my blog is getting too abstract. It’s not suited for mass consumption. Is my purpose to enlighten or entertain? A little humor couldn’t hurt.
Another friend told me to write for me, that the sharing is special and it matters little how much attention (or traffic) it generates.
I take pride in maintaining my blog. Every sentence is measured, every mark right where it belongs. It’s about infusing the prose with poetry or actually posting a poem (sometimes with commentary). I enjoy developing the blog’s lyrical qualities, the rhythm of writing and re-writing. I get excited by a spontaneous turn of phrase. There’s pleasure in creating paradox and leaving things open to interpretation. Often the form takes precedence over the content as I imitate writers I admire, trying different styles on for size.
What to include, what to tone down, what to keep to myself—the process is exhilarating. Writing serves as therapy, confession, an outlet for suppressed emotions.
My blog is a talk with myself before an audience composed of people I know and people I’ll never meet. It’s a conversation affording me a chance to express myself and claim my humanity as my own. Even when the subject is dark or dense the object is to have fun and just go with it.
To tease ideas and play with words, entice the mind with images. To seduce and be seduced: is this not a gesture of love, devotion to a body of thought?
