Skip to main content

Ugh, what.

I find it weird that my most read posts are not the lil reviews I do or even so much the more upbeat "I learned something" posts. No, it looks like the ones that have/look to have dramarama end up the most popular. I find that a bit disconcerting. Of course I base this on two posts out of the forty I've posted in the last couple and a few dozen hits out of the...well let's just say "several hundred" overall views I've had.

Still, though. Even on days when the latest post is something amusing & fanciful & nice--like a snarky review of a bad movie--these older, dramatic posts will still get more views. Sigh.

And certainly, it's possible there's more to it than 'drama = attention'; like, I realize a chunk of my views are just them spider-bots combing my blogs for search engine indexes. Or perhaps, too, it's that both of those posts have words like "fuck" and "suck" and "balls" and "gay" and shit. Who knows.

Still, it bugs me because I really feel I'm not the same old closet emo who used to spam his xanga all through high school & that embarrassing stint at NYU...right? 0.0

Comments

  1. Spambots are evil. You and I both know that drama is drama. It sucks people in. The good news is that sometimes wonderful things draw attention, like the thousands of people watching the Chilean miners be rescued. Keep writing and just bond with other bloggers. I've got a few readers who are tremendous people and I'm honored by their attention. I love to support other blogs and many people do the same. Hang in there!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Or just tell me what you think.

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Gardenzia carnivorus.

I recently got back into horticulture after a bad moment of burnout, and wouldn't ya know it, I'm back at it with carnivorous plants! Despite tweeting about it endlessly, I haven't actually explained how or why this started.

Back in middle school, I helped my science teacher set up a carnivorous plant display. Nothing elaborate, mind you; a terrarium with a bunch of sphagnum moss and some pitcher plants, a sundew or two, maybe a Venus flytrap? Didn't leave much of an impression, except maybe that they died and that sucked. shrug.
A couple years later, I was in a bog near my grandmother's lake house, when things changed forever. I was in the back end of the canoe, and as my dad pulled the front end out of the water, I glanced to my right and spied, on a stump with some moss, sundews (Drosera rotundifolia, to be precise).
Of course I recognized therm instantly—they're hard to mistake, with those the sparkling tentacles and all. I gathered 3 or so of them (I know