The Commissar has announced he is entering a period of indefinitely light blogging.
Partly, Allah’s famous comment thread at Protein Wisdom knocked me about the head. “Why do this?” is indeed a good question. That question has been hashed over endlessly, perhaps more than it merits. About all I can add is fear. Fear that we might miss the next big thing: “What if another Rathergate happens next week and I’m not on top of it?” Fear of losing a base of readers: “But if I stop blogging, and later want to re-start, my readership base will have dwindled away.”
I don’t agree. At least, that’s not why I do it. Firstly, I have no readership base to dwindle. Last I checked I was a flappy bird, but spent most of my existance as a slithering reptile. No, just checked. Back to slithering reptile. And it’s certainly not fear of missing anything, because it takes up so little of my time keeping up with the world’s events. Most of my time spent in the blogroll to your right is just curiosity. Lookin’ at what everyone else has to say. Because I value their opinion. They have a life-experience seperate from mine, unique to mine, and, ultimately, impenetrable to me.
And I certainly don’t do it because my writing is so beautiful. It’s not beauty. This is beauty.
Because I can’t continue to throw unsolicited opinions at Peter all day. He doesn’t want to hear most of them, and I don’t want what I think to annoy my one true love to distraction. So I throw them into the void, letting him, and whoever else, flick through them at their leisure, and thus get them off my chest.
The archivist in me. Rather than download everything I read and find interesting (which is much of what I read), I link to it, to save it, so I can find it later when the link disappears into the detritus that clutters modern news sites. And, when the link finally breaks, perhaps I include the part that interested me in the first place, so at least I’ll always have that.
Because it’s nice to be part of a community, even if I’m largely ignored by that community. I can pin my humble blog to one of the giant’s trackback lists, and then maybe they, and their huge readership, knows I’m out there, and maybe they’ll give a quick comment to let me know they are.
Because those 33 comments I’ve gotten so far, in between the thousands of spam I’ve deleted, make me happy.
Because I can’t stand sitting on the sidelines and watching things happen. I chafe at that, I mentally pace, I spew facts and analysis at Peter, who didn’t ask to hear it, then I chafe some more. I have no money to donate, I can’t fly out to the Diplomad and help him nail down those thousand and one items, big and small, because I’d be useless, unwanted, and ultimately catch malaria and die, or something. Although I would if I could. But I can’t, so I sit here and write about it, and it calms the panic in me.
The Commissar seems to have lost interest in the Politburo. He’s moved on to blogging on the Iraqi elections, buying ram for his son’s computers, and generally doing other things. If he’s lost interest in going on, nothing I or anyone else can say will change that. It’s his creation. He has no investors, no ombudsman, no editor, no lawyers, no advertisers to placate with lame daily postings after the magic’s gone. But he makes me laugh, and I wish that were enough.