I just spent a good two hours writing content, and I’m publishing it some place that isn’t here.
Having broken the streak and subsequently stopped caring about it much, I’m saving five to ten minutes a day. Minutes I would’ve previously spent hastily banging out some lowercase-C content just because I needed to.
Now, those minutes I save up, collect very generous interest on, and spend in batches on middle-to-uppercase-C content like the things you find here… and elsewhere.
So why? Why have I betrayed my One True Audience? Those that stuck around, those that lurk, those that haven’t abandoned me through my worst. The reason I want to give is that the things I’m writing about — and quite excitedly so — don’t feel like they belong here, in a place like this. I want to give other reasons, but the ones I can think of all feel like lies.
To remind myself and the reader: just because something doesn’t feel like a lie, doesn’t mean it isn’t.
Maybe it is time to move on from this blog. Now that the streak is gone, there really isn’t much left tethering me to this particular platform. That’s not to say I won’t still be around, even if I jump this ship.
It’s just that all of the history here — that long, dense history — stands so strongly in contract with the present — that brief, fleeting present — that they seem like different cultures, ages, continents. And we should separate them as such, with lots of water in between and only a couple boats a year daring to cross over.
Maybe this will be my last post. In this new era, there’s really no point at which you can tell with certainty. Maybe there’s a three-month gap between this post and the next. Maybe even five years. I could die, and you’d never know.