25 January 2006
Remember Vaspers the Grate? He's now quantified Over-Bloggerization, and identified no fewer than fifteen levels, which are:
- Blog Elation.
- Blog Confusion.
- Blog Comment Ecstasy.
- Blog Citation Euphoria.
- Blog Conference Inanity.
- Blog Clique & Cloister Syndrome.
- Blog Myopia & Narcissistic Cathexis.
- Blog Hyper-Mania/Melancholia.
- Blog Parenthetically Installed as Rehab Superego.
- Blog Over-valuation Morbidity.
- Blogopathic Reaction Formation.
- Blog Ambiguity Crisis.
- Blog Replication of Introjected Archaic Object.
[we have now passed the point of no return, no remedy]
- Blog Apotheosis Dissemblancing.
- Blog Psychosis total permanent loss of original pre-blog personality and goals.
I can't really tell if I'm at 4.5 or at 9.
Posted at 7:00 AM to Blogorrhea
I blame it, my self, on John C. Dvorak. He has goaded me and spurred me on in my Blog Comedy writing, and I sometimes wonder if anyone cares a flying fig about my more "serious", "sober", "unsecretive" essays?
When I slip into Whisper Transmission Mode 3-12, I catch some degree of voluptuosity, a mild ridiculous breeziness that sings.
Of course, we must all try to be mature, and avoid such ugly sounding habits as "blogging". Unfortunately, we cannot. So, we operate blogs. We create and tweak and enhance and maintain and write and respond to comments and link to other blogs and post comments on other blogs.
The thing we are famous for is sharp-tongued, point blank ferocity of shooting off our unbridled mouths.
Let us stay sharp-tongued, quick-witted, deeply informed, massively contemplative...and recognize the focus follies of MSM for exactly what they are.
These, I guess you could say, "steps" (more actually: "slides") down the polarized pole toward Blog Psychosis are not without some humor, charm, exhiliration, and Wittgensteinian zetel (sporadic, uneven quality, notes of insight).
A healthy diet of Hugo Ball, Derrida, Warhol, Blanchot, Lacan, Twain, Hemingway, Dickens, O. Henry, or your personal favorites, should stem the tide.
If Vanity Fair ever needs a techie version of James Wolcott, Dvorak's the man; I'll be more than happy to blame things on him if it helps matters.
Not that I would ever object to ridiculous breeziness: sometimes it's all the content I have.
What are we doing when we blog? I wonder if we always know why we post what we post. If I had nothing much to say, which is nearly never, I guess I would must probably just quote some anti-blog article then attach my running sharp=-tongued commentary to it, as I often do.
"Wake up and smell the coffin," I tell myself frequently.
I have sometimes quoted famous authors, a series of excerpts, like I recently did with Hugo Ball's "pre-blog" blogging diaries.
Or I will, when not heavily burdened with a burning topic to blabber about, simply speak "off the cuff", improvise some profound something or other about writing, creativity, ego dissolution, identity theft, comment spam, art, or some random enormity.
Yes, I blame Dvorak for making me think I can write a few good sentences. He likes my "structure", and his favorite pieces so far are my science fiction stories at Cosmos Blogmos blog, and my essays on Blogger Asbestos, flame retaliation, and such.