What are you looking at?

No One Clapped When I Wrote that I Was Giving Up Blogging?

Really, y’all love blogging so much? More likely the algorithms that rule the world kept you from seeing my last post, the one in which I swear off blogging, forever.

So what the fuck am I doing now? On Medium? A blogging app?

I’m writing.

Blogging is a superficial, formulated, conformist’s platform for attempting to gain popularity and cash. Of course, I’m still okay with the popularity and cash part of that last sentence, but that’s not why I write.

I write to log my thoughts, my travels, my experiences. I write to explore my emotions and ideas, to let my creative muse wreak havoc. I have more in common with Dylan (either one), Charles Bukowski, Tom Waits, and Woody Guthrie than I do with Seth Godin, James Clear, Jeff Goins, or Mark Manson.

I’m willing to say fuck conventions and etiquette and sling words around just to see what hits hard, amuses, or sticks. I’ll write about hard times, hard characters, the taboo, sadness, and beauty all in a phrase. You might call me a poet but I’d prefer “hack” or word junkie to such poetic bore.

So, yes, I’m giving up blogging. I’m sorry to have wasted ten years of my life typing such repetitive crap. I’m sorry if you read it. I’m sorry if I sounded like some kind of…