Meet the New Blog, Same as the Old Blog

Five years is practically a lifetime on the net. That I’ve been absent so long means that I’m essentially a fossil myself. Everything is so much different now. Or is it?

When I first undertook blogging (ugh), everybody who had a blog mainly posted about his/her personal life. It hardly appealed to me in that form. Did we really need to know about someone’s to-die-for dinner? To an extent, it annoyed me, especially when a blogger would ask in disbelief: “Don’t you read my blog?” I would think, “No, because I didn’t know I had that obligation. Here’s a torotot from five years in the future, you blowhard. Please give me an incentive to punch you in the face.”

Five years later, I realize that the same level of entitlement still exists (surprise!). If anything, the fact that blogging has become a ‘respectable’ preoccupation means that more bloggers are taking themselves and their ‘craft’ more seriously. I would too, if it means that I could make a living full-time out of showing photos of myself stuffing my face with pieces of dead animal. Come to think of it, that’s actually a pretty good deal. In fact, if I had sponsors and endorsement deals, I would not expect you to merely visit my blog – I would make sure that you are inundated with self-promotion. (That being a cue to add me on Facebook because I can be as good a whore as much as the others, thank you very much. What’s that? Also Twitter? Have I no shame?).

Having said that, I would like to give you some form of guarantee that I will try my best to make your visits worthwhile. I do not intend to take myself seriously and I don’t consider blogging a ‘craft’ (really?) but that also doesn’t mean that I only intend to come up with filler material all the time. Please know that I do not consider myself a respectable blogger – or for that matter, a ‘blogger’ (whatever that means, now) – or at the very least, respectable. What do you mean, ‘blogger’? That term, for better or worse, has acquired an all-embracing patina that covers wunderkinds, upstarts, mavens, media darlings, and even those who aspire or believe themselves to be such. No, I don’t think I’ll ever become that. No offense to those who are, of course. Kudos to them for doing what they do, in fact – I just know that I would suck doing what they’re doing. It begs several questions: If I refuse to consider myself any of those things, am I still a ‘blogger’? for the simple act of blogging? If so, is any dude who writes, then, a ‘writer’? Why am I using ‘quotes’? What is the sound of one hand ‘quoting’? Less fingers from a Goodbye Bading? Should I stop now with the questions?


Do I have a brown patch on my hindquarters?

Since I am kind of uncomfortable with the term ‘blogger’, I demand to be called a ‘bloggist’ instead. I don’t blog, really. I am in the practice of blogging.

I don’t really know yet how this blog will turn out (although it’s likely going to resemble my old one). I know, however, that I will want to avoid any entitlement. I do not expect you to visit regularly (but you’ll have my sincere gratitude if you do). Let me assure you of one thing: If we ever meet and I patently ask you, “Don’t you read my blog?”, please know that you have my full permission to punch me in my bloggist face.

Categories: [livestock], [verb.anything]

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