It is cold. I could not do anything much except going out for grocery shopping today for another week or so. Although I officially assigned myself that I write 500 words a day here this year, I almost appear not to deliver the promise already: I did not publish enough for it. Well, it is too soon to assume, readers, myself included. I have a draft that I wound up saving for yesterday’s allotment for 500 words, or more, mostly because of scruples that had sneaked in me while I was writing it.
It feels funny that I went through practically the same kind of scruples about the same time a year ago. I was trying to lift my spirits up, trying to find purposes in writing in the internet even if it would bring little readership. At the time, I had a doubt in writing already but specially in writing in the internet on a regular basis. I was very reluctant to commit myself to the internet authorship/readership that I found not worthwhile investing in after all, and I had taken most of the writing that I put out in the past here and other places. Nonetheless I concluded that I should write if there was even just one person who happened to read, even if I would never get to write in any bigger scale than here because chances were, I would not. This was a very sad resolution, but I was determined to write on even for the little hope the internet might bring me. This practically became my last year’s resolution.
Despite that I did not keep it after all, I remembered this somber resolution that I had made a year ago when I was composing the draft for an entry here yesterday, and I got very sickened and decided that I should leave it there even if I would end up violating the new year’s resolution already. I was writing about the interview of the person in question–let’s call her MC here: a new star in the internet ‘fuck and tell’ lit. Except a couple of unsavory elements that I found in the whole phenomena, my stance was what’s all the fuss about? I could not care less. Therefore, I thought twice of ending up making myself part of the community when I was the least willing to be.
If there is any commentary that I have about the current MC’s gossip on the rage–aside from how little and cloistered the internet literary community that is aware of–, it’s not criticism of MC, or the very writing, which was just trite to me. It was how people reacted to it got my attention and somehow made me want to talk about.
And, then, this email that I had received exactly a year before occurred to me associated to the MC gossip in the community, and what a coincidence, the mail was from someone who also found himself in the MC bandwagon this time. Shall we call him SE, he himself is more of an Internet persona. He published a number of books but none of those were counted as anything worthwhile in the literary value: he is not very important or talented as an author at any rate but somehow he is now everywhere merely for his ‘shameless self-promotion (by his words).’ So what did this guy SE want from someone like me, who is practically unknown and very prudent to maintain the identity anonymous? I had never exposed my photograph even for a bit and not a lot of people saw me in person knowing that I was responsible for anything on the internet. SE one day spotted me when he was combing through the internet by googling his own name probably on the level of compulsion, like daily level, and he reached me to an email address and the twitter I had then, when I was somehow vigorous to write publicly fresh after my new year’s resolution to write constructively on the internet. SE suggested that he and I collaborate in a plan he said he still could not spell out but would realize in a couple of months. He told me that I should come to his literary party that would take place next time when he would come to New York, which was about 10 days away from the time when he reached me for a second time. I found this approach and his order creepier than anything flattering, especially because I knew that he was writing about women in his writing in an inexcusably objectifying manner. He only seemed to care who looks how and what his ‘girl’ said or did. I did not show up on the day when was appointed for to show up and ‘introduce myself’ to him. This resented me partly because I thought this might be a common way for writers to ‘connect’ themselves, especially ‘girl’ writers to more influential male authors, and sell their writing projects, or something close to it, wrapped around their sex immediately or symbolically. Or I bet some people might at least make it easier to be recognized than blogging something one is more than half certain very few people would read at the end of the day. Because I could not bring myself to do it, I would have to keep on posting what nobody would read. But I did not feel like accommodating myself to this SE’s needs no matter what.
Because I did not react to MC’s whole phenomena in the way other people did quickly, I thought for a bit. Seeing people get agitated instantly reminded me of the anger that I felt that day when I received the invitation to SE’s internet empire no matter how meager I knew it would be? The internet writer SE has no interest other than fame and hitting women using his fame. He can’t basically wait to edit what he publishes one after another because he is that kind of author, who is very prolific but all he’s written is unworthy. No wonder, all he is after is how to make himself famous and well connected. Some people who got angry at MC incident were mad because they saw how easy it seemed to be to get her writing published and become famous instantly for someone like MC. All it took is her youth, looks and some nerve–or guts– to fuck a(n old and fairly unattractive) man and tell. (Just one thing, though. I still think she should be way more ambitious in every single way. Shouldn’t she have done it with someone even a bit better and more known? ) For the people who don’t have either or both at all–on top of it, it is way more advisable to be a young, nubile and female to do it rather than anything the opposite–the whole phonomena of MC could be just maddening or infuriating, especially for those who could not do that, like those who are men who can’t be even close to the art of seduction for both ends, those who are too old to do it, those who are not physically attractive enough to do it, and for those who are already known enough and openly in a relationship. I actually found the last case the funniest.
I have been a prostitute and MC was even a sex worker already if a small scaled, so I see no room for me to give any tip to improve her move. But all the more, there is a range that I find crucial to defend. Not the identity of the man who would be stripped off, when needed, but the quality of whatever you write and serious about. Aside from it, MC’s subject of the internet writer seemed surprisingly unattractive. I was baffled to death after his name and picture became visible to me: he was unknown to the extent that I had no clue what the whole point was. I did not even know who that was, if there was any value of going through the fuss about it. What was he good for anyway?
OK, 1356 words a day by now.
