Lately I’ve been feeling a little down, restless, unmotivated, uncreative, bored even (lack of phone or internet does that apparently!), lots of other not so fun things, and I definitely haven’t been feeling it. You know it. It’s work, music, writing, the scene, the shitty weather, even my own company. Definitely not writing. I’ve been thinking a lot about the type of voice blogs project, especially, and the unspoken boundaries one ends up crossing while writing a blog. That is, between the “personal” and “political.” Of course, the personal is poltical, but I find myself almost taken aback when reading an intensely personal and especially present post. I wonder if people read mine in the same way- is there an invisible demarcation between a “journal” style post and an “informative” one? It seems like it, even when writing about one’s personal experiences in this objective-sounding way. It’s the difference between “as a sex worker, I find ___ hurtful” and “today this client did this shitty thing and I feel like shit.”

Maybe this is just how I read myself and other’s writings. It feels like I am consuming the thoughts of others, learning from them, definitely, but it is almost the antithesis of “community building.” I don’t believe in “online community,” and approach blogs as a medium for learning about other’s experiences without any social component. Functionally, as a writer, this means I’ll pour out “objective” sounding recollections of my own experiences, but when I’m actually having a shitty time, I don’t get anything back from anyone reading who isn’t already a friend. And though I usually do get that, it’s not necessarily a function of the blog medium. Fuck, I don’t know if that makes any sense. What I mean is, if I’m sharing my experiences with a friend coming from a different background than me, and vice versa, there’s a sort of implicit emotional support going on. You know your complaints are being stored and analyzed and responded to by someone who gives a shit about you. They don’t owe you emotional support, per se, but they’re not anonymous, either.

So I kind of hate blogs.

At least anti-oppression/personal ones.

And the internet. I hate the internet.

And winter, I really hate winter.

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