Sunday, January 08, 2006


While writing on my former website, not one day went by when I did not worry about someone finding my blog who really should not find it. And it's not that I have any more horrible secrets to hide than you or anyone else. It's just that while I can control what comes out of my mouth during conversation, and to whom I spew such taboo phrases, and the times I choose to spew them, when words are historicized in the text of a blog, these words can potentially be used against you. It should come as no surprise that there are a lot of assholes in this world who will purposely twist your words should they irrationally deem it necessary. I do not want to set myself up. I do not want to be taken advantage of. I do not want to regret typing something. I do not want to be fired from a job or denied one, or offend a close friend or family member, or make a horrid mistake because I typed something sarcastically or in the heat of anger or passion.

Neither of my professions allow me to be as sarcastic and "fictional" as the tales I type on my blog. I am in the public view and must maintain a professional persona where my private life is not even allowed to come into play. 3/4th of the statements I make are sarcastic, so I do not wish to give anyone the wrong impression. Sarcasm and exaggeration are dangerous games to play, especially with my jobs.

Thus, anonymity is highly necessary. While scrolling through my original blog, I realized that I could be accused of many social crimes including slander, alcholism, drug use - so I deleted it all. Well, almost. I saved only a few posts for personal posterity while deleting nearly every entry during the time period of 2-5 am on Saturday upon returning home from a drunken party. And yes, it sucks to have lost 2.5 years worth of self-reflection. Well, it kind of sucks. Not entirely. This is better.

Upon clicking the delete option over and over and over again, I also realized something else. When/if you use your real identity - complete with photographs and all, in my case - you are fucking yourself over for whatever you really want to say. You are forced to censor yourself. One of the very few political uprisings that I would protest in the streets of any major city is censorship. Especially for art, particularly writing. When/if a writer censors himself, he lies to himself. I don't make it a point to lie to anyone I love, so why lie to myself? With my name and photograph plastered all over my website, I automatically run the risk of harsh judgment and personal attacks of my character, mainly because I open myself up so much instead of just making a ridiculously mundane list of what I did on any given day. With anonymity, the same may ring true, but when readers cannot point a finger and identify a face in a lineup of blogger criminals (i.e. persons who emote their absolute beliefs, opinions and wishes), then writing in "diary form" allows me, the writer, to be much more vulnerable and honest.

Censoring myself does not challenge me as a writer. It only threatens me.

I am tired of giving myself this disservice in so many ways. I always preach about how important it is to not deny yourself personal honesty and to never be plastic. Originally I just decided to give up blogging altogether. But I've come to love this part of my life, and I've met quite a few excellent people in person, too. If I wish to know someone - be it a fellow blogger or a reader - than the anonymity will inevitably erase itself. (Plus now I won't have nightmares about stalkers or be uncomfortably recognized on the street, which only happened a few times.) Even more important, I find blogging an utmost therapeutic and self-reflective activity, at least the times that I write for myself instead of for an audience. Plus, I go crazy if I don't write nearly every day.

I mean, shit - I love scribing about partying, traveling, sex (not porn, though, don't worry, I won't become one of those sites), working professionally with celebrities, and always blasting my (typically) alternative views about damn near everything...and I'm fucking tired of not being able to do so. I love making mistakes, as they only make me more experienced and wiser - but people are not supposed to admit their faults, desires, fuck-ups, or taboo thoughts as readily as I love admitting mine. Especially in America. Now this can change without consequence.

(I feel like someone just handed me a microphone.)

So. No more self-censoring. No more "fiction." I will open myself up to the world like a giant vagina, writing to myself and generally ignoring my audience (not in a derogatory sense, of course - one should never write for an audience, but rather, simply be aware of an audience), because when blogging for an audience, the writer forgets himself and doesn't say what he wants to say. I am quite ready to start over anyway.

Okay then. This is for all the muthafuckin' middle children of the world, we confused and moody people, many of whom email me on a monthly or weekly basis - because I do not want to let them down.

This is also a fantastically therapeutic start to 2006.

The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship. - George Bernard Shaw