Why are you people following me? I mean y’all that see me put up my work and click on that Like button. I don’t know you and wonder, do you know me? Do you actually read anything on my blog or do you Like me to Like you, that tit-for-tat that seems to be how we collectively operate nowadays. Oh, that’s a question, here you go: ? But should I go to your blog, Top Ten Tips To Make Money On The Internet, and mindlessly click?
Who are you?
I’d like to get to know you. It’s four-thirty am on the dot and at this hour one can’t help think of such things. And others. It’s cold and dark and besides the reliable sound of cars streaming by, the getting up every morning and doing my “work” and having done so for god knows how long, at least the last thousand mornings, wound up just being what I do. And much to my own chagrin. But how many who make a conscious decision to follow and start Liking could pick me out of a line-up?
You don’t have to Like me.
Shout out to the Likers I do know. And love. It’s maybe twenty or thirty (give or take) off the top of my head and many with big personalities (you’re smiling cause it’s you). I know it’s you cause you’re still reading. Y’all are mostly affable and besides, put up with me. I’ve told you before that I love you- have you tired of hearing it? Il mio amore. Hey, the reason I know you is you make yourself known in a world where everyone seems to want to be known, but sure the hell isn’t doing an effective job of it. And you make yourself known as if we’ve known each other for any length of time, we’ve grown together. I respect your tenacity. When you share your impressions and engage I only see that as generous. Even when I’m not “got” (which is lots). But I have over twelve-hundred followers.
And they keep coming.
Don’t Like this post if you’ve nothing to say!
What have I gotten myself into? I don’t care if anyone follows or even reads me. That’s not why I do what I do. I’ve always found the blogging experience to be a galvanizing one, and for me mine’s a class act. But I AM in my own little world and if you more than Like me, you know that. I profess to being an island for better or worse and do strut that out, and at least for the near future I don’t see that changing. I have no zero interest in whatever schemes or hoo ha is coming out of this Liker crowd. On the flip side, I admit I myself have been remiss. Back in the day, I was very ambitious and had the time to reach and comment on as many blogs as possible, which is a courtesy to other writers and acknowledgment of their self-expression. And it’s nice. But it’s also satisfying for me and part of my own growth of which I take no prisoners. As of late, life intrudes (see tritism) and I can’t do it as much (see blessing/curse). But I do what I can and my expectations are measured. Still I hardly Like anything unless I read and share my reaction with the writer.
“I Like being a good citizen,” he said, ha ha.
And may plain suck. Oh, I’m gonna start inserting ha ha’s I think, generally speaking. When I laugh why not put it down on paper for the world to see?
Don’t Like this post! You’re killing me. So yeh there’s that. There’s days when I have many Likes and according to my page statistics maybe ten visitors (although they may have viewed three times that much which we likey, likey, likey). Readers give me juice. Most days I do due diligence and virtually truck my stuff out to facebook, twitter, linkedin and publishing types unsolicited, like the protagonist in Knut Hamsun’s The Hunger , or Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. On that note and very contrary to my character I put the Hamsun link there, for those who crave context and texture. But of course you don’t have to go! Does my mentioning them sound pretentious (or irrelevant)? They’re more real to me than most living people. But so are many contemporary writers like my friend Trent Lewin. Him you can google and he’ll show up, He’s lots to say. Or go right to his blog Trent Lewin (pompous bastard). But anyway, he’s the guy that put this subject in my head a few days ago. I digress. So yeh I truck my crap out to see what comes back. And here come the Likes! That’s mostly where it ends. Back to me, myself and I. At six forty-eight am.
Like the last thousand mornings.
I gotta stop spelling out numbers. But anyways there’s not much more I can do really, and my body of work and trajectory is obvious. (Paleeze, pull a post from Feb 2012 and tell me different ha ha). I gotta hold onto that. And thinking out loud and going on ad nauseum, I guess that’s what it’s about: my work, appreciating those who actually read and respond, and paying less mind to new followers: the sportswear companies from somewhere, the travel agents and food critics and search engine marketers and radical dieters and dentists and mommy-blogs and others with unrelated or for me uninteresting themes. Why in the world would they Like me? Oh and many who don’t seem to speak English. I mean from lots of countries in other languages, even some pages of only gobbledygook hieroglyphics. But they know English, right?
Not mine, ha ha.
The ha ha’s. I’m not attempting heady but aspire here for clarity. It’s temperature out for November and I’ll continue to sit alone in the dark and ponder such trivialities and how they fit or don’t into the big picture. I do have one. And now that the sun is coming up and I’m outside drinking coffee (which I do every morning), I realize it’s the same in real life, right? Lots of people to know and many who seem conditioned for only a figurative Like. Not much more.
That I’m used to.