2 min read
No sooner than I start the blog I find all these supposedly soft and supporting sites like Medium who, just like every other cunting platform, want you to submit your content under their umbrella. The whole point of doing my own site is so that it is truly my own. My own voice, any coffees bought for me are mine.
Do people even read anymore?
Or is it all just reels? I am coming to the blog game at the worst time, it’s no longer a thing, right? Amusing given that we’re in an online video age, me a videographer not making the most of it! Ha.
I am after my own audience, if it exists – only 8.3 billion people on this floating rock. Thinking through my feelings and putting them down on paper, or rather, screen. Hoping to find an audience that has an attention span longer than your average gnat, an audience that is interested in a fucking nobody who has made mistakes and bearing all online.
It’s a super fucking niche audience if it exists.
It’s just me, isn’t it? Maybe this blog is my long (hopefully) journey to death. Getting everything out from the last 50 years, memoirs written over the next 20odd years. To feel understood, to no longer hold some of these things in. Why not get a therapist you may ask? I do have one, his advice?
“A lot of this would make great material for your stand up!”
I shit you not. But he’s right, and I already knew that.
The constant pressure on people to create, pressure them so that they may shit out a diamond when really all that is happening to the digital world is people churning out more and more shit. A bit like the Magic Porridge Pot, only shite, forgettable content.
I’d love to get a following but; 1 I don’t write good; 2 I’ve nothing interesting to say.
None of that will stop me churning this all out.
More porridge soon.
— B
If you enjoyed this, buy me a coffee.
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