Deep Backward Point

My twitter account has supplanted all else. The immediacy is like crack.

I feel the need to step back. Twitter is ephemeral, which is a good thing, but it is ephemeral, which is tragic. There is scant record of my prolific output save for a tweet count, and a dubious follower count.

So what is the solution. Procrastinator Joe says “I need to write more. If I only had the time.”

But time is a crutch and a well and a mistress and a slave and a master.

The real barrier to production is that we are precious and fragile and an unread, unloved tweet is easy to stomach but an unloved blog post—worst of all unloved by the author himself—is a harsh blow. Could we survive?

But we must. Give ourselves the permission to suck.

The image of this blog in my mind is too lofty to live up to. Let’s tear it down, and suck.