Here is blog post 2800. The vast majority of my posts have been, in a sense, invisible. That is, no one but I ever saw them. Or, if they were seen, they were seen by people who were misdirected to my blog through online searches designed to find something else. During the recent few years, that may not necessarily have been the case, but in the early years virtually no one stumbled across my blog intending to read my posts. Even more recently, the extremely limited traffic has been, for the most part, accidental. Oh, occasionally, a few friends would make a point to stop by, but this blog has been decidedly schizophrenic from the start, so no one—not even friends—really wanted to read my stream of consciousness blather. For that reason—that I have always known my schizophrenic mode of writing would always be of extremely limited interest—I’ve never tried to develop a “following.” I’ve never tried to market this little spot on the internet.

But I continued and continue to write. I frequently flush the detritus out of my head and onto my blog posts. With 2800 posts under my belt on this blog, I think a committed investigator—a trained forensic psychologist with enormous patience—could read enough of my writing to determine what sort of person I am. I wish a committed investigator would do precisely that and would share the determination with me. I’d like to know more about the guy who writes this drivel.

Considering the sheer volume of stuff I’ve produced, I think it’s likely that I really could find enough material in what I’ve written to compile an anthology that might, just might, be worth reading. I’ve said that before, though. Several times. Despite my failure to act on the assertion thus far, I still believe it. I may be delusional, of course, but I think there’s enough decent writing, married to enough decent thought, to justify the effort necessary to make a book. The question, of course, is whether there are enough people who would be interested in it to make the effort worth my while. The bigger question is whether I’ll ever get off my duff and try to wade through what I’ve written, seeking the gems. Perhaps my failure to do it has been for a reason: that I’m afraid the “gems” I’m seeking aren’t really there. If that’s the case, it may be in my best interest not to push it. Who needs confirmation that a fear is justified? On the other hand, confronting one’s fears may be healing, in a sense.

But with good fortune, I’ll be able to write another 2800 posts in the coming few years, keeping my eyes open for the occasional gem. It’s taken me something over five years to get these first 2800 posts done. I’ll check back in a few years to see how I’m doing. And I’ll try to keep track of any gems I encounter along the way.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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4 Responses to 2800

  1. I wasn’t really trolling for support, but I appreciate it, nonetheless, Cheryl. You are a sweet person, my friend.

  2. Hopester says:

    “…I think there’s enough decent writing, married to enough decent thought, to justify the effort necessary to make a book.”


  3. The links between “porn” and “2800” are subtle, Larry, but they must be there!

  4. Larry Zuckerman says:

    I was misdirected, how did I end up here?

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