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Thursday, December 27, 2018

Pierwalker Log: December 27, 2018

Writing start: 11:08 A.M.
Finish: 2:45 P.M.
Total new words (est.): 1000
Edited (est.): 3900

Tasks

1. Failure: 400 new words
Notes: Slow-going. I need to make sure the plot points are good.

2. Book Three Melody: Off

3. Ant Story: Read-through of chapter one

4. Fractalverse V5: Off till the New Year

5. Cheapery St. Heroes: BII: Off till the New Year

6. Rapscallion: Off

7. Gilligan: 600 new words
Notes: Trying to find the end of the chapter and having no luck.

8. T-Bag: Off

Special Projects: Time permitting: work on illustration: "Becoming"

Extra notes: Here's an article that I think should be required reading: "How Much of the Internet is Fake? Turns Out, a Lot of It, Actually."

For people like me who lean completely on the Internet to get the word out about my work, that article was a huge eye-opener. I won't go into specifics: I think you should just take the time and read it top to bottom, especially if you're a creator who leans on the Web even half as much as I do.

The cost of attention is going towards infinity, as I've said before, while the value of attention is nosediving towards negative infinity. Getting noticed in this insane environment is becoming more and more difficult. I would even say that it is approaching impossible, but I honestly don't know: it already could be impossible.

And yes: the Internet, and the culture that props it up, such as it is, are insane. This piece proves it to me yet again.

I'm a good writer. But in this insane environment, that doesn't mean squat. The culture has lost its mind. And worse, it has lost its soul. That is, if it ever had one. I'm beginning to wonder.

I call the insanity the Tower. Everybody wants in it. There's a tremendous, pressing crowd around it: people doing everything they can to get closer and closer to it, no matter how immoral it may be, no matter how injurious or hypocritical it may be, no matter how underhanded it may be, no matter how criminal it may be. Fights are common in the pressing crowd, and always spread: two fighters quickly become two hundred. Everyone's yelling and screaming, trying to be heard.

The Tower is tall and thin, with windows. Those who get into it fight their way to the highest floor they can. On occasion they'll glance out the windows. When they do the crowd fawns and curses at them.

There is a wide space between the crowd and the Tower, one that's impossible to breach. Guards man it. On occasion they'll let someone through, and that person, shrieking with joy, runs into the Tower and begins fighting their way up the stairs to the highest floor they can get to.

This is the Internet. This is the chase for fame and fortune.

This is insanity. Is there any wonder at all that insane assholes like Trump have gained so much power?

I refuse to be part of any of it. The article only reaffirmed the wisdom of that decision.

How many of the 43 pageviews I've gotten thus far today come from actual human beings? Who the fuck knows at this point? It could be all 43, but it could also be zero. That's insane.

I've had great trouble all my life accepting what comes so easily to be accepted by those around me. That refusal has cost me jobs, relationships, even families. Insanity accepted as sanity; "that's just the way things are" the mantra of the defenders of the insanity.

I refuse to buy into it. I refuse to accept it. I refuse to become, as so many are, mindless cattle; and I refuse to join the swelling, swaying, massive crowd surrounding the Tower. If total obscurity be my punishment for such a refusal, then so be it.

This is my life; this is my affirmation; this is who I am.

Amen.



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