on starting a blog...

sup,

i'm not sure how to structure these since i'm certain personal blogs went the way of blockbuster and profitable indie movies. using substack or formatting my thoughts into tiktok would be smarter longterm-- but nah: i've grown tired of following the group stench (besides, the tech companies scrape more than a little off the top, and i figure if the statistical chances of a personal blog making money are not in my favor, i'd rather keep my 'nothing-gained' completely).

i've accepted that i'm likely not algorithm friendly, and i'm not going to try to be. there's a freedom in this. to have a space where expectation can't dig its grubby little digits in the sweet pudding that is doing something out of unrequited love. the back of my neck stiffens when i think of figuring out some sort of "branding", or devising a strategic development of "content".

i've grown to loathe these evils.

"branding"

"content"

i hear calliope weep with their every utterance.

when did we creatives all collectively agree to let the suits forever influence our vernacular to reflect their gluttonous, rapaciously capitalistic perspectives on creativity?

why did we stop calling this shit art, culture, or anything poetic or sexy?

"content". blegh. please do yourself a favor and get a grip before your partner leaves you for someone who isn't afraid to sing terribly in the shower. it's not to late.

let it be known that from this entry forward, this is a safe space for play, and a bastion for creative freedom. to ensure this, the use of the aforementioned bundles of corrosive syllables are banned effective immediately.

further censorship is sure to come, but unlike republicans and the supremecasts, my dictatorship is rooted in making you a better, sexier, more compelling individual. who knows? perhaps with this soulful shift of diction, you'll be able to contribute more to your group conversations than with what your (most definitely not) hottake on the future of superhero movies (for the neckbeards who are to kneejerk to this. i've worked in your gathering grounds. i've sold you your poisonous variant covers and suffered your phobic-suffixed rants. you cannot harm me more than you have harmed yourselves).

anyways, now that we have the language ettiquette out of the way, let's finish up with some basic housekeeping:

you may have noticed the rampant lack of capitalization. reason: i am lazy. reason two: i like the look of it. reason three: you'll either leave indignantly, or tolerate it and adapt. either way, it's here to stay. i didn't go to college, grew up on genre fiction, and have considered my words to be the only place where "the man" couldn't beat me or make fun of my eyes-- your conventions have no hold over me, pigs. this is basically a diary, and if you are going to commit the transgression of opening up my most privated thoughts and read about the time i was forced to shit in a costco parking lot, you will suffer my affronts against my colonizer's tongue (also, if the academics will laud mccarthy for finding punctuation optional, the world can tolerate my quirky relationship with capitalization-- did i just utter mccarthy and myself in the same breath?-- yes: choke on it, nerds).

lastly, yes, you are right in thinking that: if this is just a diary, just a space to play, why not just keep to myself? firstly, you don't know me. there's a forest worth of notebooks filled with stories, thoughts, poems, and dirty limericks that will remain between me and the FBI agent assigned to me.

i create enough shit meant for the pyre. it's how i stay warm when i don't have enough money to use a heater in winter.

simply: i have an ego. i want people to know i made things. to know i was here.

No one's really been able to put it better than the patron saint of mystery thriller herself, so here you go:

"But no artist, i now realize, can be satisfied with art alone. There is a natural craving for recognition which cannot be gainsaid... a pitiful human wish that someone should know just how clever I have been..."

- Agatha 'Wait, Why are We Changing the Title?' Christie.

P.S. i also really want to get good at writing essays, and, more importantly, video essays! and my backlog of practiced pieces is in a destitute state, so i will be trying to do these regularly, with reckless mirth, in order to sharpen up my skills in hopes that one day, some stranger will chance upon my non-fictitious thoughts and find them either charming, repulsive, or, at the very least, well written enough to remember.