War And Peas

Well, my persistent audience. How the hell are you? Consider that a rhetorical question, unless you feel like actually telling me, either through comments or interpretative dance. So today I wondered for a bit why those of you who I know would rather see me fall under a bus continue to read this thing. Though I am aware that knowing isn't the same as caring, and it does relieve an itch, doesn't it?

Over my 30 zillionth cup of tea this evening, as I started to undergo tannin induced hallucinations, I pondered this inability or unwillingness that so often inflicts those who fall apart, to sever those final cords. Naturally I blame the internet, which makes it so easy to watch others at a distance, in a 'peeking through a pair of curtains and telling Mavis on the phone what those neighbours are up to' kind of way.

Right now it's the strange mix of anonymity and transparency which fascinates me. For instance I have a very good idea that people who hold me in... low esteem, let us say, are reading my blog. One of them even left a couple of comments on a recent post. But it's not the same as walking up on the street and starting a conversation, and I guess it's that sense of negotiating boundaries and the realities of claiming 'space' that is yours on the digital plane that I also find pretty interesting.

Of course this is a public blog, and so I don't hold any claims to this being much of a space for me to be private in. The most I can do is say who gets to comment here. But on the other side of the coin I can see who reads this blog through a variety of online tools and so the watchers become the watched and have now entered the conversation through the simple act of placing their eyeballs onto the page. As Neo would say, woah.

Also, and I realise this as I type it out, I do have some sense of my blog being my space in a fashion, as I think played out when Detractor A left a comment a few weeks back. When this happened my instinctive response was to engage in dialogue, because that's what one does when a guest comes into your house. Possibly if I was more territorial by nature I wouldn't have left the comment through, but I've always loved to receive guests of any kind and I swear to this day, if my worst enemy knocked on the door and asked for a cup of tea, I'd be very hard pressed not to invite them inside and offer them biscuits as well. It's that sense that someone has entered a domain of mine that makes me want to engage them on friendly terms, and I think this information makes me glad that bears are illiterate.

This is a topic that, really, I'm way too tired to give proper justice to now, being late o'clock in the evening, so I hope you'll excuse me for lightly rambling through what should really have been a much more in depth post about online interaction.

Of course it's entirely possible that at the end of the day this blog is merely the vehicle by which my detractors are hoping to witness my HORRIFIC DOWNFALL, and let me be the first to assure you that when my doomy doom comes upon me, I shall let you know here first, possibly with full colour pictures and a flow chart. It's the least I can do for a faithful audience.