People who locate themselves on the internet have been proclaiming the 'death of blogs' for a few years now. I'm as suspicious of this as I am about all the proclamations of a potential 'death of the novel' or the death of any other popular media. This is not because I don't think it could happen, but rather, because it always seems to coincide precisely with the inevitable waves of melancholy which often replaces youthful enthusiasm.
Blogs will go on, though I suspect that people will become far less discriminating in what they dump into indie-published book form. Or, perhaps, there will be more discrimination. Who knows? Maybe the quality of the writing will improve on the pretense that it will ultimately arrive to the pages of a book - an actual product.
Some active web crawling will cause one to note that, in 2017, a series of blogs started which all seemed to be similar in theme if not entirely in tone. They were, how do I describe them? Post-philosophical? Post - political? Meta-discursive? (or all three and some mix thereof) - marked not by pessimism so much as narrative exhaustion - as if to say, ‘There are no thought-crimes left. Nevertheless, I shall try.’ Certainly, comprised of over-stimulated minds who’d found themselves having come out of some form of NRX with their brains rattled by their never ending attempt to reconfigure a Gnosis which wasn’t jiving with their sense of intellectual creativity. One can feel the struggle in the resultant writing.
Vortexes of apocalyptic foreboding.
Exercises in testing for maximum agency (in all cases, as one might imagine, resulting in revelation, as if on a divine level, of absolute Impotence).
Their posts peter off somewhere at the end of 2018, like mad prophets finally crushed by the weight of a destiny about which they cannot stop writing but whose essence has finally eventuated as coterminus with their own sense of mental stability. I feel for them, those talented freaks who only had a good year and a half in them. I even envy them, perhaps.
A guide to navigating through internet ideologies:
They are not so different from ideologies formed throughout history through other means, they are just quicker to the point and more crass in method. Present an apocalyptic event whose signs one can trace all throughout history and which is, for the most part, unstoppable. Adherents of the ideology, however, who see the warning signs written in culture, will be the most prepared for the inevitable world to come after the Big Event. The point is that one best get on this shit now lest one wants the tide of history to humble their inability to read the proper way of life in the chaos of world events.
It cannot be overstated to what degree these ideologies are completist in their method - that is to say, the degree to which they have an answer for absolutely everything.
My current black pill on the whole matter of ideology - one which I state reluctantly and which, realistically, is not so much a ‘pill’ in the proper knock-you-on-your-ass sense as a sort of salve or antihistamine - is that one can’t necessarily be ‘against’ ideology (as I have wished to be in the past) if only for the reason that one is always in the midst of one, even when one is trying not to be. It’s not original, I know, but the thirst for originality is a disease.
An attempt at a thorough follow-up to this statement would put me in the awkward position of stating, quite plainly, that while ideologies are most certainly fictions (there is no one single ‘correct’ one) they are not fictions which can necessarily be replaced with non-fictions. Fiction has its function. There will always be nonfiction too. It does seem that the nonfiction of life tends to reassert itself precisely when fiction has been exhausted.
All ideologies have their half-life - think of them as the Empires of Thought Life. One pays taxes to the Cesar even if one thinks his speeches are shite. One could go the Stirner/Unique or Junger/Anarch route and resolve oneself to the fact that commitment, even intellectual and spiritual commitment, is simply a matter of taste, fancy or interest. This comes with its own woolly set of problems, certainly.
But could these problems be any worse than the demand of ideologues of all stripes? That one has to swallow the turd of their precepts whole?