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On Blog Audiences

I received an email on Sunday from someone on my blogroll. While I will keep their identity hidden to avoid potential embarassment, the message read:

YOU read MY blog? I’m surprised.

I could answer this in a snappy two line response, but it’s also an interesting question because it actually touches towards one of the weird internal issues of blogging. So I’m going to make a big deal out of what isn’t and subject you all to my babble once more.

First, the factual answer: yes, if you’re on my blogroll (the list of links to the right that just reads like a straightforward list of people), I read your blog. Even if you aren’t there, there’s a chance I’m still reading you. I’ve been an syndication addict for a few years now, and the primary benefit of digesting my friends’ pages in feed format lets me keep up with everyone equally. The other big benefit is that I no longer need to spend 8 hours a day surfing from web page to web page – I can now spend a mere 6 hours a day incessently checking my feed watcher and reading every last bit on my inbound feeds.

But the larger questions here – who reads my blog? should they read my blog? and should I be surprised? – have always been those questions that tickle me in odd and often times inappropriate ways. This may in part largely be to the change in how blogs – or at the very least, mine – are treated.

For instance, I was at a birthday party earlier this month for a friend from Cornell I hadn’t seen since graduation and only get to talk to about twice a month. I was attempting to catch up with her at said party, and after one story, the response was “Oh yeah, I remember reading about that on your blog”. Needless to say, I was surprised. (And incidentally, hi, Amy!)

But why should this surprise me by this point? I’ve been blogging for four years now, and while the first two were largely unread (and long since destroyed between ISP moves and blog-software switches), I should now be used to the idea that most everyone in my life reads my blog. Friends, co-workers, VJ Army users, the Bemani communty, 8BOP, customers, maybe a few from the Mac gaming industry or #joiito, and a handful of random people I have a hard time attributing. Even my mom reads my blog – and has, at least once, admonished me for not blogging often enough to the point where she thought I might be dead.

I don’t keep a blog to replace direct social connections (although it would certainly be easy enough.) I see it as a group conversation at a bar – here I am trying to tell this story, and you may not be able to understand me or get the joke, but you sit there and nod and smile and maybe hit me with a comment, and we all have a decent time.

(Half the time, to be honest, I don’t know how everyone can stand reading my randomly targetted and inside-joke laced writing style. But then I realize that’s the way I actually am instead of merely writing that way, and the guilt subsides.)

What does still surprise me is any time I am linked to by the “A-list”. For the Quicksilver tutorial, not only did I get trackbacks from a number of blogs I’ve read before (NSlog, Disobey, the guy who runs the CSS Garden), but I was also asked to license my post for a book from a well-known technical book company. The NY1 post yielding an email from Pat Kiernan had a similar effect.

The part that irks me about this isn’t that highly visible people are stumbling onto my blog, it’s that I’m now fighting this urge to make posts appeal to certain people. I’ve been cursed into believing that I have to be funny and/or insightful, when I know damn well that’s not necessary to have a decent post. So I become stuck in a rut where nothing I write feels suitable for posting.

Even this post has been revised multiple times – partially to fix typos and flow, but also in failed attempts to make it “more insightful”. You know, just in case I suddenly have that monster epiphany.

So my recommendation to everyone (including myself, albeit a bit too late) is to not think too much about who’s reading your posts, or what it means in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t affect you nor what you write. If you it does, you’ll dilute your efforts and lose the joy of sharing with people what you think and feel.

(Aren’t you glad it took me that much text to not really say much of anything? I am.)

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Uncategorized

Of Dreams And Monkeys

I do have a long navel-gazing post coming later today, but I couldn’t help but quote Mark Pilgrim’s recent dream:

I came home Sunday and immediately fell asleep. I dreamt of an army of monkeys. Not The Army of The Twelve Monkeys, just a run-of-the-mill army of an indeterminate number of monkeys. Not an infinite number of monkeys, although the monkeys were willing to commit suicide by solving an infinite number of simultaneous equations. They were ascending a staircase of some sort. A golden staircase, ascending to heaven. Good Lord, not a Stairway To Heaven, but yes, there was a stairway involved, and Heaven. And monkeys. Or possibly it was a non-golden staircase, but it began its ascent from the Golden Gate Bridge. But there were definitely monkeys. Monkeys solving an infinite number of simultaneous equations, and then dying. They were mathematical martyrs. Mathematical martyr monkeys.

All I can think is that I wish I had dreams like that.

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Uncategorized

As If We Needed More Evidence My Musical Tastes Were Screwed

The songs I’ve purchased with my last set of iTunes Pepsi caps:
Chemical Calisthenics, by Blackalicious
In addition to being psyched about seeing Shadow in two weeks, I’m really psyched about seeing Blackalicious.
My Name Is Jonas, by Weezer
Best song they ever did. No, fuck you, it is.
Pardon Me, by Incubus
Ditto. Wish they had the acoustic version for sale.
Popular, by Nada Surf
I bought this as a half-gag, and then I realized it completely kicked ass. Burned by my own musical choices.
Sucked Out, by Superdrag
Not quite as good as Popular, but pretty rockin’.
The Man Comes Around, by Johnny Cash
Bought largely because of its inclusion in the opening credits of Dawn Of The Dead; out of all the Johnny Cash I’ve heard, probably the only song I can stand listening to repeatedly. Of course, after I bought it, I realized I had it on my work machine already. D’oh.
Tom’s Diner, by Suzanne Vega & D.N.A.
TIME WARP BACK TO 5TH GRADE.
Explode (Sessions@AOL), by Nelly Furtado
My favorite song off her new album, all acoustic-like. Fantastic.
Bottle To The Ground, by NOFX
Got stuck in my head long ago when I was listening to WICB. Now I can excise the demons.
Blister In The Sun (MTV2 Version), by Guster
I’m not fond of Violent Femmes. But I love me some Guster!
Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand, by Primitive Radio Gods
Sort of sad and languid, a good half trip-hop song.
Live On Stage, by Dilated Peoples
I play NBA Streets Vol. 2 just to hear this song. No more.
So yeah, if you needed ideas for what to use your Pepsi caps on, now you know!