|(PHOTO: First World War Centenary)|
If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that the blogosphere just ain’t what it used to be. I’m surprised by just how many of the old vanguard from the early aughts are still in the trenches, flogging the sociopolitical horse race for every last bit of its worth; I’ll never stop believing in people like Digby, Tengrain, or Driftglass, who do the Lord’s work every single day, so to speak. But it’s impossible to mistake the impression of the consensus that the days where the “vituperative, foul-mouthed bloggers of the Left,” are not only long gone, but they’re never, ever coming back. The most any of us can hope for these days is a robust comments section.
Of course, it was pretty much like that when I got here back in the fall of 2011, during the heady days of Occupy Wall Street. Suddenly the general public seemed have a voice again, and places like Facebook and Twitter became these titanic battlegrounds of savage political discourse that the media simply couldn’t ignore. Suddenly, we the people were the story again, first as a curiosity, then as a part of the daily digest.
I got swept up in a wave of righteous indignation along with rest, spilling thousands and thousands of words in comment threads, on bulletin boards, and then in the blogosphere itself, when I started my first blog Soapbox in the summer of 2012. We really felt like we were all a part of something, and that our war of words was really making a difference.
Boy, were we wrong.
For all of our collective efforts, left and right, the public square has been reduced to an endless variety of ideological corners that are more recalcitrant than ever, coming to view any nearly any breach of orthodoxy as irredeemable within moments of the transgression. Social media has made us paranoid, a nation of virtue signallers, incurious and hostile to anything that deviates from our worldview. Both sides can argue, quite justifiably, that many of the behaviors they exhibit are perfectly justifiable given the behaviors of their opposition, but if we spend too much time arguing over who shot first we tend to forget that there’s a bloody corpse on the ground, which in this case would be the United Fucking States of America.
All of this is to say that it has been incredibly easy to retreat from the front lines of the blogosphere, especially since the ascension of President Stupid (thanks Driftglass!). The goat rodeo that has ensued on Capitol Hill ever since is something nobody was prepared for, certainly not me. After a point I just had to look away for a while. My stomach just couldn’t take it anymore. Literally.
These days, I’m perfectly content to put out my podcast every couple of weeks, and scribble out the occasional blog post. I’ve pontificated enough, for the most part. We’re living in a historical moment of which not a single living soul has a legitimate claim upon the outcome, and I feel neither qualified nor compelled to constantly dissect the maneuvers of a party machine whose sole purpose, knowingly or not, is to rend the very fabric of society to shreds, leaving us all competing for the scraps. Getting rid of them is all that matters now. But I digress.
As you can probably imagine by what you’ve read so far, I miss writing in general, and blogging in particular. There was a time where I was churning out eight-hundred to thousand-word articles nearly every single day, and it felt damned good to do it. My narrative voice had become incredibly strong and consistent, along with my knowledge of the issues and my ability to derive context from them. But doing so was exhausting. And tedious. And boring.
I want to continue writing, and I want to continue writing about issues that matter, but I also want to use my writing as something more than just a tool for sounding off whenever some Facebook link gets my blood boiling.
Community and interdependency are values that I hold dear, but toiling for years under the yoke of depression have made it extremely difficult for me to embody them. But after my recent medical debacle, I’ve been forced to confront the fact that I can no longer isolate myself from the world at large and expect to survive for much longer than I have. Depression made it all too easy for me to isolate myself from the world at large over the years, and I have suffered greatly for it. It’s simply too dangerous for me to continue suffering in silence.
My biggest fear in merging the political with the personal has been that of judgment, even reprisal, from friends, loved ones, or the community at large. There’s a real challenge in managing life’s confrontations while asserting your right to exist as you truly are, and it’s one that I’ve not been able to rise to all that well over the years. But I’ve slowly begun to build a bigger, better support system, one that will hopefully rise to the challenges that lie ahead. And I want you, Dear Reader, to be a part of it.
Like I said, the most any of us bloggers (or podcasters) can really hope for anymore these days in terms of success is a robust comments section. That’s where you come in. I want to hear from you, for Chrissake. I know you’re out there, and I know you’re listening. My podcast is all about creating a space for people to be heard, and I want my blog to be the same. Tell me your stories, tell me what lifts you up or brings you down. We have so much to learn from each other, you and I. Leave me a comment, send me a message. Be more than just a statistic on my dashboard. Be a part of something with me, something fun and weird and interesting and spectacular, warts and all.
As the Internet slowly continues to merge with the public consciousness, the more important our digital connections become, like it or not. Insofar, our connections have been dispassionate, and arbitrary. Let’s make them matter again, even if it’s just for a little while.
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