Dear Blog, Today I did this and said that and made this private joke and generally my grammar was terrible and I got myself into a situation with no dramatic tension or character arcs and I guess you had to be there. *SUBMIT*
Sound familiar? Yes, tickle me Qwertyuiop: it's blog-o'clock! Enter the literary dark ages as a million-volume omnibus of misspelled first drafts and textual healing is spammed out of Generation-Why? keyboards quicker than you can Yahoo! 'line breaks please!'. Hey, don't get me wrong, this influx in self-narration can only be good for the online diary industry -- it's just the readers' unions I feel sorry for.
So is it evidence of some severe fetish for self-punishment or simply a nod to irony that I should actually publish such a scathing rebuttal of blogs on, of all things, my own blog? No, it's simply that I believe he has a point. A hilarious** point. Dare I say it? An LOL point, even. His conclusion says it best:
How will historians look back on this e-era? A liberating lattice of language and interconnectivity or a billion gigs of ego gunk? Academics keep saying how isolated and disconnected we're all feeling, despite the communication age explosion. Perhaps if we all took a big, virtual *breath* and deeply pondered what we really want to say to the world, and to each other, artistic discipline could win over from, "This morning my friend said something hilarious but I can't remember."
Well said, Mr. Heazlewood. Let us redeem blogging from the muddy pool of "a billion gigs of ego junk".
*Not a magazine I'd universally recommend, but I happen to have a copy of this month's issue.
**We have dispensed with the "an" in front on silent H's, have we not? Justin Heazlewood is making me nervous.