Jen and I had an e-mail discussion about blogging every day and how it doesn’t affect my views. Which I really do care about, even though it’s a razor-thin edge because when I get a ton of views for some reason, it freaks me out. I don’t know who’s stalking me or why, but I’ve kept a pretty low profile for awhile now. Don’t you have anything better to do?
(But if you simply like reading this, please don’t leave. I like you. You scare me, but I like you.)
(“You scare me, but I like you” has been the basis for probably 73% of my adult relationships.)
Jen liked it when I wrote every day, I said it wasn’t worth it. But I get what she was saying. My brain eats up words like some people’s brains eat up methamphetamines. I can’t stop. Reading gets me high. I love my Sunday mornings full of Post Secret and catching up on friends’ blogs. When my friends blog frequently, it makes me so happy to know that something is out there for me to consume. I can have my fix. When they stop blogging for awhile, or when they write sporadically, I’m irrationally pissed. WTF, mates? Don’t you know I’m here? ENTERTAIN ME, DAMMIT.
The Bloggingest Week was okay, but it didn’t garner a ton of views like my old blog did all on its own (rest in peace, you shitty MySpace piece of headachy shit). So I stopped. Which Jen didn’t like. According to her, my idea of “barely any views” is “only 500.” So clearly she’s after my heart. And it’s working. (To say nothing of our coining the phrase, “doing the daily.” Hee!)
The thing is that getting a shitload of views is addictive. By the end of my old blog, I was up to about 4,000 a week. Which is not a lot in the grand scheme of bloggers I think are good, but still. Now here, and those numbers are at 2,000? Grrr. I told Graham the other day that “being St. Louis famous is like being Internet famous, who fucking cares.” Which is true, and I don’t want to be famous on the Internet or in St. Louis, but I can’t deny that this isn’t pulling the numbers like my old blog did, and that sort of annoys me.
Which is why I’m contemplating committing major self-dignicide and getting a Twitter.
Guhhhh. I know. It’s so annoying and indulgent and if you thought I was a narcissist already, look the fuck out because this is about to get ridiculous. It’s just that social networking is social, and I’d like to follow some people without making Facebook friends with them, and where else are readers going to come from? I’ve just about exhausted the stalker habits of all my exes and their exes and Graham’s exes ad infinitum. I need new readers who can be impressed by my old readers, and then we’ll all read things together and it’ll be like a cult except without any of that god stuff and nobody has to drink generic Kool-Aid with cyanide in it.
Back in high school, I was voted Most Likely To Run A Fortune 500 Company. Well, I don’t care too much for business but I’ll rock my reading cult like nobody’s everybody’s business.
PS – All of you old readers who keep coming back and commenting and e-mail the RFT about me, lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove you guys. Especially the ones with great racks.