Blogging Is Dead

September 8, 2008

I want to read fiction again. I miss the dank and musty smell of secondhand books, the yellowing and crumbling pages as I turn them. I miss the high of a good climax and the winding down of a rational denouement. Mostly, I miss being intelligent. Since I stopped reading voraciously (I used to consume five books a week) I believe that I’ve dumbed down. Too much Internet does that.

 

I stopped reading fiction because I thought that reading blogs can take the place of my books. For a while reading blogs satisfied my craving for good stories—someone would talk about a funny incident that happened on the way to work or an epiphany about life, and I’d be hooked. Blogging had a charm, back then. People did it to share their stories because they would burst if they didn’t, or at the very least, it gave them satisfaction to know that their story is out there somewhere and someone might read it sometime. Blogging was all about honesty three, five years ago. Now? It’s just another way to sell.

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