Eek.
This post is about wanting to write explicitly and revealingly about my life and such, and why I feel compelled to talk about ‘big themes’ like love, and rejection, and the future, or whatever, but that I also realize the pointlessness of that on a small scale, because everyone wants to talk about that stuff, and then we end up talking to ourselves. We shout into echo chambers.
It is also about keeping myself from writing about interesting, important things, for the sake of some imagined ‘potential employers’ who must be impressed by me and my dignity and restraint, I guess, and not turned off by my oversharing and blabbering and self-important thoughts on cultural products. I must be interesting, not too interesting.
It is also sort of about We Live In Public, which is a movie that I watched yesterday that made me think twice over again about writing about ourselves, because that’s like living in public and when you live in public you are driven to start shooting up your own apple orchard for no reason other than that you can. Also eventually you stop being creative and start being crazy.
This post is, in the very smallest way, about the medium of Tumblr and how weird it is that I’m sitting here reading things about people I have never/will never meet and then I scroll down and more of them load and people’s ‘gratuitous pictures of themselves’ and songs they like and self-important things they write and chats they post are the best/worst entertainment around.
This post is over now.
