100. Blogs!
I.
For the hundredth week in a row Iām sitting down at my laptop to write on this blog. My mini-universe, an island in the online ocean. I hadnāt expected to still be doing this after almost two years. My desk is covered with countless half-filled (not half-empty) sketch- and notebooks. The unexplainable urge to write about what Iām doing was always there, but the discipline was not.
On social media (we really should come up with a different word for that) thatās no longer possible. Those platforms consist of polarisation, the need to prove a point and rage-bait. If that is the freedom that Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have in mind, donāt forget that itās mostly their freedom. To sow chaos and make money. Your own blog is Tough Luck for Big Tech.
I read a post by Italian blogger Manuel Moreale who believes in the same thing I do:
The more I look around the web the more Iām convinced we should all treasure our own tiny corners of the web. My site is precious. Precious for me. It is mine to do what I want. I can build it, I can destroy it, I can shape it, I can let it rot. I can change it or let it stay still. I can make it super busy or let it go dormant. I can make it welcoming or hostile. Iām in charge of all those decisions and no one can come here and tell me what I should do with it. The only moderation rules are the ones dictated by my morals and I own the responsibility of my words. My name is on it, my face is on it. I write and say the things I want to write and say at this very specific moment in time, based on the person I am and the things I believe in, and no one can force me to do otherwise. Thereās something incredibly liberating about all this.
II.
Meanwhile my relationship with social media, as Facebook would put it, is complicated. I enjoy sharing a photo on Instagram and a link on Bluesky. And there are still plenty of people (both known and unknown to me) whose posts inspire or entertain. The problem is that you get the rest of the misery thrown in for free. Itās like jumping into the Waal for a refreshing swim and getting swept away by a current you canāt swim against.
Blogger So1o from Hong Kong, whose name I donāt otherwise know, writes that his small website is the only place where he feels completely at ease:
Youāve the freedom to express yourselves on social platforms. Right. But on the other hand, itās like vomiting your thoughts, publicly. The worst part is aināt no one is going to clean up the mess for you. Why are we always wanting to yap about all sorts of things to avoid the awkward silence? So much noise, too many opinions. Could we just enjoy the peace? (ā¦) I hereby grant you the permission to permit me to stay away from all that shitstorm but live like a caveman.
III.
My current way of blogging works for me and is wonderfully simple. A brief look behind the scenes.
In Notion (on Mac and iPhone) I keep an open list that I constantly add links and thoughts to. Usually I jot down a note or a few keywords per item so I know roughly what I want to say about it. This way I collect all sorts of things throughout the week, like a commonplace diary. In that sense Notion has become the notebook of ideas that I could never maintain offline.
I am ruthless with Notion. When my blog is finished, I delete the list from the previous week (including the things that didnāt make it into the blog) and start fresh. I keep nothing. Notion is ephemeral; the blog endures.
The best part is that I can do whatever I want. My interests are broad but can be loosely contained within the categories of internet, culture and, combined, internet culture. I try to keep the chapters in my blogs short, though over the years Iāve become somewhat more long-winded. There might still be a future project in that for my website: a fast lane with short pieces (what you find under the PS heading in these blogs) and a slow lane with a bit more room for text. Or a list somewhere of blogs I read myself. Loose ideas floating around. That too is the fun of having your own blog: you keep tinkering with it.
To keep up the blogging, it helps me to have something holding me to account. Thatās the newsletter through which I send out my blog every Sunday. The self-imposed deadline that Iām now, having met it a hundred times in a row, not about to give up on.
PS.
Ezra Klein on Donald Trump: āDonāt believe him.ā According to Klein, Trump never wanted to be president ā he wanted to be king. And if Trump keeps insisting he is a king, the people will start to believe it.
More on social media: this sharp article from 404media on how tech companies try to keep us trapped in an endless doomscroll. With pointed words from sociologist Katherine Cross: āFor most people, social media gives you this sense that unless you care about everything, you care about nothing. You must try to swallow the world while itās on fire. But we didnāt evolve to be able to absorb this much info. It makes you devalue the work you can do in your community.ā
A beautiful video for two songs by Eefje de Visser: Beeld Hangt Stil and Hoor Je Het Hart Kloppen.
The first trailer for the new Fantastic Four film is out. It will be Marvelās third attempt to give the superhero team (my favourite in the Marvel roster) a decent film. Iām excited. The cast is not bad either. Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, Joseph Quinn and Ebon Moss-Bachrach as the heroes, with supporting roles for among others Ralph Ineson and John Malkovich.
A surprise Grammy winner in the Rock category: Now and Then, the very last song by The Beatles. Artificial intelligence was used to clean up a scratchy demo by John Lennon. Paul McCartney said recently that AI can do wonderful things. āWe took the cassette and cleaned up John Lennonās voice so it sounded like it was recorded yesterday,ā he said. In his view AI can be very useful, as long as it doesnāt steal from creative people. āIn this case the song was actually sung by John. He was in The Beatles and his widow gave us the tape. There was no copyright trouble. But you can hear me on the internet singing God Only Knows by The Beach Boys even though I never sang it. The song was made with AI. And someone is getting paid for it, but itās not me.ā
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