container and content

Often when meeting dominant men off the internet the topic of the blog comes up in conversation. In this way what's supposed to be a log of something going on, an observation tool, becomes itself what's going on, the object of discussion and the element being observed. The container becomes the content.

Some people ask me not to write about them, or not to say things that will identify them. One man, whom i was tentatively in service to, once told me initially to stop writing it, an instruction that i promptly complied with, but later asked me to resume my writing as it would help him understand what was going on inside my head. This second order proved harder to follow.

Without any delusion of creative independence or artistic integrity, the blog is nevertheless a spontaneous outburst of thoughts, sometimes nonsensical (you might have noticed), that i like to freeze in these casual, irregular posts. I don't sit down thinking: what shall i write about today... In fact, most of the time it actually helps me make sense of confused thoughts that orbit the hollowness of my brain.

But being asked to write, if anything, inhibits me because i feel as though i'm writing for someone else, which makes it a dialogue, and a dialogue is generally less honest than a monologue.

I've met somebody this week, and although these days i'm careful not to trust my instincts too much, i really liked him. But we discussed the blog, and now i feel that if i write something complimentary it's going to sound dishonest, so i'll avoid discussing it at this stage.