Two bloggers friends have been screwing around with my head lately — Jane Devin and Dana Guthrie Martin. Both of them are what they used to call “writers.” They do not write screenplays where some guy’s penis gets caught in the trunk of a Toyota Prius. They write pieces they truly care about. They love language and ideas and that type of shit. They are passionate and honest in what they say.
I hate everything they stand for.
From now on, whenever I write an “emotional” post which bores you to death, I want you to blame these two bloggers for their negative influences. Remember when I used to be funny. How many of you are excited to see Woody Allen’s latest unfunny movie?
At one time, I wanted to be the next Dooce. Now, I’m deleting half of my followers from Twitter and Flickr. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m a Pisces. Astrology books say that I am a sensitive soul who can only deal with two or three close friends. It’s not that I don’t care. I actually DO care what type of sandwich you had for lunch.
How do you people read so many blog posts in one day? I read some tech blogger bragging about being able to read 100 posts daily in his Google Reader. Is he a robot? I read two or three decent posts, and I’m drained.
I understand that there is a social dynamic to blogging. Everyone wants to be loved and admired, but let’s be honest — most of us would be plain miserable being an A-list blogger. Yes, I think for the first time in my blogging career, I actually feel sympathy for Dooce. It must be hard to deal with 1000 commenters, and strangers thinking they “love” you. I never want to hear any ONE of you ever saying that you “love” me, unless, of course, we first have sex, then it is a given. You might like me. You might find my jokes mildly amusing. But EVEN I’m not sure I love myself! Love Dooce instead.
I sometimes find it difficult to deal with getting thirty comments a day. I mean I like the comments, but I also know that YOU are writers, too, and you deserve love and attention, so I feel like a jerk if I don’t immediately go to your blog and write a comment back. I know I sound like an asshole complaining when you’re a blogger who only getting two comments, but who’s to say that it is better to have thirty comments than two comments? Is it better to sleep around with strangers in bars every night or have one loving wife at home waiting for you? If I ran the blogosphere, I would limit comments to thirty maximum per post. That is enough to stroke any ego. OK, I’m going to be RADICAL here. If you see that I already have thirty comments, do everyone a favor and go put a comment on a blog with less comments. You can always send me an email or a message on Twitter later telling me that you liked the post. Or just send me a photo of your bra.
Do any really BIG bloggers read Citizen of the Month? I mean YOU Dooce, Pioneer Woman, Stephanie Klein, etc. (no, not you Bloggess… not yet)? Does anyone know them personally? I would love to talk to you — even interview you for this blog. I wouldn’t ask you about writing or your blog. I would be curious on how you deal emotionally with other bloggers? How difficult is it? Does it drain your energy? Why do you even continue when you could be writing in other venues? And most importantly… do any of us really want to follow in your footsteps? Or is that what success is all about — having to deal with a lot of strangers?
These are all selfish questions. Maybe I’m not emotionally fit to be an A-lister, even if my writing got to that level. I sort of like being the bohemian, spouting socialist slogans like “everyone is interesting” and not caring about anyone’s reaction when I inappropriately flirt with some hot mommyblogger.
“Oh, that’s just Neilochka! He’s harmless. He’s not an A-lister or anything like that.”
Of course, I would be bullshitting you if I said I didn’t care about success. It would be cool to make a great living through wriitng. It would be fun to give a keynote address at some blogging conference, the audience oohing and aahing to my every word. Of course, I would quickly run out afterwards so I wouldn’t have to talk to any of you.
And talk about opportunities for getting laid!
But then, sometimes, I think about going small with this blog… or starting all over again, like the first “real writer” I got to know online. I could then focus more on my writing than worrying about all this nonsense. But why in the world would I do that? If I wanted fewer readers, I could just do it the old-fashioned way — by publishing poetry!
Ha Ha. I can just see the faces of some of you. Oh no! He’s going to publish some poetry!
Luckily, I didn’t write it myself. Dana started something called the Poetry Collaborative. Under this system, two people write a poem together via email or IM. It’s more of an experiment than anything else, because we took turns writing lines. My victim/collaborator was the talented Christine Swint of Maria Cristina Poesia.
Here is our poem… wait, let me give some of you the chance to click over to a better blog… OK, for those left behind –
when clouds cover the moon
by Neil and Christine
My hands are orchids,
but in anger they provoke
violet bruises. Livid
birds screech in a dovecote,
wings beating against bamboo.
Their black judgment must abide,
suspended in time, like an ant in amber
or Papa when he’s high–
his gnarled hands turn a crank
that voice! that voice! it’s mine–
not a magpie’s, nor a mountebank’s,
piercing the nighttime.
I wish for whispers, willows,
a sunrise tomorrow.
BIG bloggers..ROCK STAR BLOGGERS..kinda like my post from the other day. See for ME.. you and Jenny the Bloggess visiting was having Rock Star Bloggers visiting my blog.. There are good Rock Star Bloggers and Bad Rock Star Bloggers..the good ones are having fun and reading and commenting as well..the Bad ones may be funny and smart but they only have time to impress..and not to be friendly. Your are still good Neil. You need to have fun.
MP — I think I started thinking about this after reading you post — and then I forgot where I read it –
http://mysecondjournal.wordpress.com/2008/08/18/why-i-am-not-a-rock-star-blogger/
I just noticed the blogcrush thingy… thank you Neil, that’s very sweet. (Even if you do only love me for a day… (; A girl will take the lovin’ where she can get it, eh?)
OK I just realized that my post has a picture of a naked woman wrapped in a snake – maybe that’s what it takes to get noticed !
Wordnerd! You haven’et stopped loving ME< have you? Are all the comments a lie?
And Neil – you’re on to something with the ‘over 30 comments’ thing. I really like some people who are over the top popular, but won’t comment on many of their posts because…well…who cares once you’re topped 50 of ‘em?
Quality vs quantity. That’s the real thing.
And I liked the poem.
That poem sucks. Yes, I know 5000 Citizen of the Month fans say otherwise, but then they’d probably also tell you your farts smelled good. As your de facto sister, I’ll tell you straight out that your poem and a fart smell very similar.
As for screwing with your head, Neilochka, I’m simply encouraging you, the often brilliant writer, to get off your duff and write something other than tweets, a blog post or collaborative poem. It pisses me off that you have all that talent, and some good resources, but don’t put them to work where they’d really count — like in a novel.
I took singing lessons once, because I really really love music. After the 3rd lesson, the instructor took me hand and said “Jane, some people make good musicians, others make good fans. You are going to be a great fan.”
I tell that sad story because there are very good singers that rarely sing, and very good writers that don’t write. I love writing as much as music, but mine is not the kind that sells. Yours would be, if you ever got off your tukus and focused.
So, yeah, get off your butt. Or break my heart. Or write a novel. Or just kill me now.
Jane — Both you and Sophia just didn’t understand the poem.
All I know is that if you don’t come to my blog rightthisminute and comment back, I’m going to feel worthless.
I’ve been away for the simple reason that you state above, I just don’t have the energy to read so many blogs, and frankly you were wearing me out man.
But I still check in now and again, and I usually enjoy what I find.
Neil you’re lying. You want all of us to love you, not like you, loooooove you. You love your harem of literate, witty women,(and a few guys, aren’t there usually eunuchs in a harem? not that I’m calling your male readers eunuchs).
Anyhow, a good chunk of the most talked about blogs are inane and miles from well written. The main reason to aspire to Dooce-like blogosity is to be able to hang with your bitches all day and make a sweet, sweet living doing it.
We love you, and for good reason, you’re our straight David Sedaris, you’re our safe fantasy, you’re our literate, witty Captain Anthony Nelson, “Yes, Master?”
Admit it, you love it.
You and Christine? She’s one of my favorite “new” bloggers (As in I only met her this past year)
I have been lurking as I enjoy your posts and saw you leading up to this post. I lurk a lot as I only read people I truly enjoy and want less and less to do with blogging
That said I’m having my blog redone but more because, sadly, it’s a sort of resume
I loved it when my technorati was between 2,500 (for about an hour) and 7,000.
Then came Twitter and it just seemed so pointless to me. I could write a book about blogging’s growth and stagnation
I’m doing a complicated move–due to close 10/01 and actually leave New York for good and that’s bittersweet
I don’t think you’re looking for bloglove in this post. Most of us reach the point of….something.
I do look forward to the next stage of Neil Kramer
I don’t twitter, but I believe twitter will save blogging, because it will eventually separate those with something to say from those who want something to do.
62 comments, that’s a lot of ego stroking for you.
I’m sure it’s been said. I just want you to go read my blog.
Nat — I think there is some truth to that. I know I frequently comment just to let the other person know I was there — and hopefully persuade him to come to my blog. I wonder why no one has come up with a widget where u can tell a blogger that you read and enjoyed his post, but aren’t in the mood to comment — sort of a button you can press that sends a message into a database saying “Neil was here!” or something like that.
But then again, that would suck, wouldn’t it? — with everyone just pressing buttons all over the place.
“Sometimes I wonder about poetry that way. Do the authors really mean what they say or are they just playing with us?”
Both. We are serious AND we are playing with you.
There was a time (the length of about 2 months) that I really wanted to get serious about blogging. I wanted to research it, find a larger audience and make money at it. All it did was make me uptight and nervous about who would be reading me. Now, I just write for me and my family. I have only about 2-3 comments per day, mostly by the same folks, but I have found some great friends and people to look up to (Bloggess). I’m content. If I read some of the more popular blogs, I can see that people only comment (and early) to get noticed and more traffic. Part of the game. But I don’t want to play. I can honestly say I don’t love you, but I’m in like with you. This post came at a time when I needed it the most. Thanks. I’m bookmarking it to look back on later when my comments stop. Thank you. Thank you.
oh, and a confession: I like your writing, Neil, but I also use your comments section as a sort of living blogroll. I pick random commenters and follow on to their blogs, always looking for a good read.
Way to use reverse psychology.
And GOG’s comment? Ouch.
i like the poem. it isn’t something you can “capture”, and will provide different meanings depending on where a person is during life.
i’m not poetry expert, i mean pablo neruda is one of my favorites.
that’s good writing for a virgo, oh and before i forget, i love you.
my blog is an insignificant area of space that only I am concerned about. comments are never a burden. I couldnt keep up after a certain amount but I have ADD and apathy.
from sister pisces to brother pisces, just cuz youz wrote poem don’t means yuz post it. lol.
happy twittering. I couldn’t keep up anyway. Too much therapy still to accomplish.
I had to comment, compelled to watch the counter click over to 71… was this your intention, wicked man?
I don’t even know what twitter is, just btw. Sorry, a second comment as I read my way back up the comments.
Di — Human nature. No one comments until you tell them not to. And stop sending me money in the mail! And your bras!
If you received one of Di’s bras in the mail, you’d REMEMBER.
Ahem. Just sayin…
#74 woo hoo! Take that bitches!
I like this quote from Bob Rosenthal: “Collaborations lift the need to be great and reveal the need to just be together.”
Okay, so I feel like you and I are sort of having a conversation about this in bits and pieces (and now I’m your blog crush! that totally deserves a picture of my bra!) today. I think that… different people have different expectations about what it means to leave a comment on a blog and what the writer’s “obligation” then is. While I’m not an A-lister by any means, I often get well over your suggested max of 30 comments on a post, and yeah, I don’t have the time/energy/brain cells to respond to everyone.
So… I don’t. I have noticed over time that occasionally people who were once ardent commenters wander off, and certainly some (all?) of them were pissed that I didn’t respond. I do respond to commenters, sometimes (depending on what they said or how much work is on my desk or the mood I’m in or the phase of the moon), and I feel badly if people feel slighted when I don’t, but this is how it goes.
And while I’m grateful for every single person who takes the time to read what I’ve written, the whole “OH I JUST LOVE YOU” thing is… weird. “I love your writing!” = warm fuzzies. “You and I are exactly alike!” = creepy.
I also feel like anyone who can’t understand that a personal response to every comment is often logistically unfeasible and not in any way a personal slight probably needs to take a little time away from the computer, y’know?
Okay, shutting up. Um, bra pic’s in the mail.
Ah, the blogging/reading/commenting balance.
I completely agree with Sizzle.
And, I’d add, we can only do so much. And by do I mean care.
Lord have mercy man, 77 comments! All because you wrote poetry, hee hee!
You must be a fairly super human blogger. I totally relate to the emotionally draining part. That’s why I stopped with all the memes, and most of the linking to prompt sites. Must save self from degradation. You really are funny, even if you are now a poet.
As a fellow Pisces, I understand the problem: we act like it doesn’t really matter about being popular and adored but in reality, it does.
Penis stuck again,
In the trunk of a hybrid.
Prius loves me back.
There’s a little haiku I wrote for you. Enjoy.
I don’t love you. I hope we can stay friends, though. I know everyone says that, but I really mean it. I do.
Stop calling me.
Prius? PENIS! Prius? PENIS!
In direct defiance, I shall comment (far) over 30 comments, and tell you I love you.
But you’ll see right through that, since it really is true… I only ever fall in love AFTER sex.
How’d you know?
Since we’ve had sex repeatedly, I’m allowed to say that I love you. And I’m allowed to comment even if you’ve already got one thousand. I’m special.
Ahem. I really like this post. There isn’t one single time you write something, anything, that doesn’t make think and feel connected. And relate. It feels good. Oooooooohhhh aaaaahhhhhhhh!
I can’t get enough of you, Mr. harmless lover boy
(As charming as you are, I seriously doubt the ‘harmless’ part)
God forbid you were ever Mr. Dooce. What a nightmare. My happiest times blogging was when I had about 15-20 everyday readers who I really connected with, learned from and more importantly had time for. There’s always more than that, but those were always there. And they connected between themselves, so the conversations were never-ending. Sure, readers don’t have to be friends. But. I like it better that way. With all the depth, that is. A small but faithful readership is my ideal. I know they’re there because they want to hear whatever it is that I have to say, good or bad, boring or not, and not because I can be (or can I?) entertaining. Or funny. I’m so not funny.
It comes as no surprise to me you’re so loved, mr. charming. You’re full of inspiration.
PS: Don’t come and comment on my post with no comments. Really. Don’t. I was born a loner *lmao*
That would be so hawt if you flirted with me inappropriately.
But I guess that would mean that first you’d have to think I was a hot mommyblogger. Hmm.
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I’m late to this game, but if you are gonna get your penis caught in a vehicle at least get it caught in a real car like a Chevy Tahoe or a Vette.
Neil, you’re ridiculous.
Barful of strangers trumps wife ANY day.
you are taking this verra seriously. i blog because i want to verbally barf somewhere, because sometimes the barf wells up to your throat part and that’s when you know it’s gonna blow. and so then i blog. lots of it is utter rubbish and some of the people who comment are concerned, encouraging, disdainful or sycophantic. i don’t care because it’s about the barf.
i normally don’t like talking about barf, but look how many times i just said it in this comment. THAT’S progress. that’s growth!