Withdrawal is a bitch. Not being able to blogg with the regularity that I am used to I feel that I have started to drift away from the blogg, which ironically also means that I don’t watch as many movies, as I can’t process them in my written rants... Which obviously awakens the age old question – is it really worth the effort?
Someone asked me why do you write all that shit on the internet, don’t you have better things to do with your time? Well yeah, but at the same time I love to write about shit, that’s where I get the basis for most of my rants IRL… It’s also where I get to tryout ideas and passages of thought concerning certain movies and genres, and most of all it’s a method of choice to be read, published and possibly recognized for the decades of writing shit but never getting any recognition for it. The damned internet is filled with home made Hemmingway’s so why not me too…
… but is it worth the effort?
I don’t know, but there’s a kinda of scary emotion brooding since I’ve been away from my precious workspace at home - away from the constant clickety click of keyboard keys and flappty flap of reference books, the buzzety buzz of DVD’s being forced into the tiny slot on the side of the Mac – and that frightening groaning that I hear here in my head may be the mental conductor signalling that this may be the end of the line…
This blogging certainly isn’t making any difference in the bigger picture, and it’s not really getting me anywhere either, so perhaps it was all just a platonic drug of choice to act as a substitute for all that other crap I so affectionately cling onto in pop culture.
Someone asked me why do you write all that shit on the internet, don’t you have better things to do with your time? Well yeah, but at the same time I love to write about shit, that’s where I get the basis for most of my rants IRL… It’s also where I get to tryout ideas and passages of thought concerning certain movies and genres, and most of all it’s a method of choice to be read, published and possibly recognized for the decades of writing shit but never getting any recognition for it. The damned internet is filled with home made Hemmingway’s so why not me too…
… but is it worth the effort?
I don’t know, but there’s a kinda of scary emotion brooding since I’ve been away from my precious workspace at home - away from the constant clickety click of keyboard keys and flappty flap of reference books, the buzzety buzz of DVD’s being forced into the tiny slot on the side of the Mac – and that frightening groaning that I hear here in my head may be the mental conductor signalling that this may be the end of the line…
This blogging certainly isn’t making any difference in the bigger picture, and it’s not really getting me anywhere either, so perhaps it was all just a platonic drug of choice to act as a substitute for all that other crap I so affectionately cling onto in pop culture.
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