eat me henger

i'm conflicted when this blog gets page views.  my initial thought is "my writing must've been optimized for the search engine". understandable for a small number of readers stumbling on this esoteric content. i primarily write for myself as a form of therapy, because i'm too stingy to avail the services of a licensed professional, and validate the efficacy of psychiatric medicine. so a couple of eavesdroppers violating doctor-patient confidentiality is acceptably forgivable. it gets scary when the page views get reach the thousands. anonymity ameliorates the fear. funny how the tables have turned. my actual social media accounts barely hit double-digit engagements, and i went through a pathetically unsuccessful clickbait phase to chase after clout. back then, i just wanted the attention because being relevant felt good. perhaps after the personal rebellion our hormone-addled selves go through, we get a strong desire to prove ourselves as an up-and-coming young ad

last time i was in touch with the zeitgeist, it seemed as though we were becoming more walled off. that was coming from a time of expansive openness brought about by greater access to information. i remember a time when i had to purposively go to a library or economize limited dial up internet allocation at home. when the floodgates opened, we were connected a wide world of both profound and mundane ideas. however, we naturally gravitated to humor. i had my fun from the novelty of knowing more at an exponential rate. it felt surreal, it felt imposibru . eventually the need for efficient delivery of data resulted in memes. it started with templated images and punchy captions. perhaps as a limitation of copper wire-transmitted internet. but technology as a way of advancing.  eventually we needn't be tethered to a wall socket to stay updated. we received internet wirelessly at greater speeds than telephone wires. that's when still image memes were overtaken by videos. they could&#

been a while since i last published. i've been finding it such a slog to get through introspective writing. there are two diametrically opposed forces at play here: first, is a need to get a grasp over whatever mental turbulence i'm going through. second, is a desire to put out acceptable prose. i've been at this for several years already and i feel like i'm over the novelty of repeatedly writing my whining. it's been a while since i last put in any real effort with sentence construction. the last sentence of the paragraph above is an example. making the last few words tighter comes naturally. perhaps from years of writing here. it feels somewhat rewarding, but negligibly so that i could've spent my time elsewhere. but a garden ought to be tended every now and then.