Recently I’ve been visiting Ron Silliman’s blog quite a bit and am envious of the way he manages to combine the poetic and the personal, without going overboard. He doesn’t seem to post much of his own poetry on his site either. However, posting poetry here was one of the reasons I set up this blog in the first place. I just wonder whether anyone really cares?
Even my PC Bangs blog, which I intended to be a travelogue/ diary type site, has degenerated into prose poetry, an altogether unexpected turn of events. I’m going to try and start posting more of my pictures to that one, which should perhaps make me feel less self-conscious about it but the problem of what people like to read online remains.
Another aspect of this whole thing is that people I have met overseas (and to whom I have given my card, featuring this weblog’s address) are possibly visiting to find out what I do and so on, and are frightened off by poooooooooems. Or maybe I’m just paranoid about this stuff? Does it really matter? Why shouldn’t I just feel free to post whatever I like? Or is this just wrong-headed?
Should I get more personal and honest on this blog? In some ways I think that’s why people read them. Mind you, it’s not that I have anything really barnestormingly vital or interesting to say most of the time. But I admit I enjoy reading about other peoples’ thoughts and feelings, looking at friends’ pictures from parties and holidays, leaving comments when I can’t speak to people directly, and generally getting out of my own brainstem.
So maybe I should start doing what everyone else does – giving readers (if they exist) a window into my id, or whatever. The problem is that I just find doing that excruciatingly self-indulgent. Which is, of course, precisely what most people think of poetry. Do you see my quandary? Another thing I find enjoyable about blooooogs is that one can change one’s personality. Take Clint Bo Dean, for example, if you have to. When I first started the Davey Dreamnation blog, it was fun to pretend to be a superstar.
Now that Davey has joined the mainstream by starting his own record label, however, he has lost a bit of the original spark that made him, Scaramouche, Stung, Pixel Mouse, Quito and all the rest of the hangers-on at Camp Davey so funny in the first place. Some people might say my online avatar is finally growing up. I’d say they’re wrong. I’m losing the sense of adventure that is required if one is to create interesting things for other people to enjoy.
So, for the moment, unless anybody objects, I’m going to stop posting poems (in any case, there’s so many here that I have run out of stuff to post) and start keeping it real.
The other alternative, of course, is to stop trying to write four blogs at once and just lump it all together on an uberdavey site. Why do I have to make things so difficult for myself?