500 Words on the Topic of Gratitude

One of my donors mentioned their gratitude for my writing, so here’s a little on that:

It’s nice to be acknowledged, that this blog isn’t just a repository for my random thoughts, a standard issue howl into the void of my own eventual demise, whatever.  OK, it’s also that, but it’s also that thing they’re calling “content.”  It’s a service I usually provide for free.  Or is my pay in the moments when somebody shows appreciation in some small way?

So this is my little way of saying I’m grateful for your contributions to the odd fundraiser, but also for whatever participation you show here, such as comments.  I may not agree with everything you say, may not always have time to respond, but I am glad I engaged somebody.  I may have mentioned this before, but your comments are often more thoughtful than my posts, and add value to them.  Also, even when you don’t comment?  If you read you become part of that blip on the traffic statistics, and that’s nice too.

Here I am, Great American Satan, content creator.  Blogginator.  Artist.  High-falutin’ intrallectural.  I falute highly of my own intrallect, for the benefit of ye all.  Oh yeah, and someday, I just might make good on my threats to self-publish a novel.  You’ve been warned.

Actually, I did post a novel here once, and somebody actually read it!  Grateful for that.  It wasn’t short either.  That shit was like 140,000 words.  I cannot believe she read that.  By the way, that was an FtBlogger by the handle of Voyager.  Muchas gracias.  I wonder if WMDKitty ever finished it?

Either way, thanks for showing up.  At my day job, I am routinely confronted with the gulf between human social need in the world and the emotional generosity to fulfill it.  This cuts close to home in other ways.  Sometimes the content of this blog can get kinda dark, and for their own sakes, I don’t share it with the sad people in my own life.  But that means I’m not sharing it with anybody but you.

And even when I’m not writing about something grim, people from my own life tend to not be very interested in what I write on here.  I’m not sure why that is.  Somebody close to me has complained that it’s hard to get anybody they know to read what they write, and I connected these with something I’d heard about Brad Pitt.  Rather, Brad Pitt’s friends and family.

I’ve read that while he’s some kind of Special Fancy Adonis to the masses, to his friends and family, he is unremarkable.  He’s just that guy they know.  Essentially, Art, Ideas, Important Things are the stuff that strangers do, people outside of our own lives.  If somebody you know is doing some kind of creative work, well, it must not be that special or interesting, because you know them.  Make sense?

Which brings me at last to this:  Thanks for not knowing me!

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