I regret everything I write here. I wonder if I’m the only one who instantly and violently hates what they post. I thought being disposable would cure me of literary pretensions, what does it say about the value of your work when by design it falls off the page, why care really, when it’s gonna effectively disappear in a few days anyway? I dig them up, groan and edit, it’s hard to let go. All I can say for sure right now is blogging is a medium. That’s it. Where no one clicks the links. Seeing that can fill me with rage because I click the links on every post I read, people raised catholic tend to do things like click links religiously. I suffer for it, on dialup, half the links I click are a pointless waste of time, but that’s the medium, and I read in good faith, knowing that I might click yet another corrupt popularity-driven empty pointless stupid link, but knowing also that to live without constant suffering means you just aren’t trying hard enough. Odds are if I click them all one will eventually pay off, and I measure payment for the gratifying link in the number of frustrating clicks that led up it. I don’t link to get hits, by the way, and try to make clicking here worth your time.
Been reading some inspiring essays in the blogosphere this week, Living in shit, by Chuckling is recommended for opening up new pathways of thinking. I for one will never look at American Idol the same way again, there are a wholelotta things I’ll never look at the same way upon having read that.
Good news concerning my imaginary struggle with scientologists, thanks to a post at tiny cat pants which has informed my new attitude. It all started with Dr. John Breeding, a psych rights activist I admire, been on my blogroll since day one and I got to meet him in a committee hearing, where I sat and bitched about how scientologists are ruining it for all of us. He replied that people who are hostile toward scientologists really need to get over it. This never occurred to me. Some of us disdain scientology because it gives anti-psychiatry a bad name. I’m more afraid if I say hi to a scientologist I’ll turn into one. I’m imitative and gullible, no boundaries, missed the boat on individuation and stable sense of self, prone to cults and true believing horseshit, a seeker, there’s one born every minute.
So yesterday I read this post at tiny cat pants, How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? where Aunt B. says:
Listen, conservatives, I love you. You know I do. And I do take to heart your admonishments that not every problem can be fixed by throwing money at it.
But some of you seem fixated on this notion that it is unfair that you or your children should have to learn things that challenge your cherished beliefs. And this group of you seems to think that it’s best that everyone in the state just wallow in ignorance rather than risk anyone being exposed to ideas that might be “dangerous” in some way.
…I’ll cop right now to the fact that liberals can be insufferable elitists. Good god, if ever there were a bunch of folks strolling about the universe going on about how, if only you had our wisdom, knowledge, and insight, you couldn’t help but see how right we are, it’s us.
And it is annoying, but, in our defense, at least it is–hypothetically–possible for anyone to join the liberal elite. Just read up a bunch and become a smartypants and expound the right political views and get you some money and voila! you are an insufferable liberal, too!
I want to try being like that. Listen scientologists, you know I love you. But. And “but” will be heard by speaking from a place both conciliatory and challenging, it looks to me like some kind of art.
And finally, I met a smart young person who is passionate about ideas, I’ve been discussing existentialism with him, searching for some way to convey the concept of the human condition as thrown, which I know is beyond my abilities. I was reading Walcott tonight, who, as luck would have it, linked to his favorite poet, and gave me the answer.
It’s a serious question, does clicking the link make you my bitch?