Just a little, Biddle
Just a little Biddle.
Just a Lil Biddle.
9
I find myself drawn to yet troubled by this "vertical."
All media brands that matter come to be more about their cast of characters than subject matter — witness Siskel & Ebert, MSNBC, the New York Times, with its David Carrs and Jill Abramsons, and of course, inevitably, Gawker. Half the draw and at least that much of the reward of being a regular reader comes from intuiting who likes whom, who's ascendant or burnt out or on the outs, and imagining — against all reason, though in fairness it's built into the come-on — that we might ourselves be present and even a participant at the "Gawker offices" (or MSNBC or Siskel & Ebert or Cheers or Star Trek "offices," etc etc.), privvy to all the in jokes and rivalries etc.
If we're attentive we can get that on the site. If we want a deeper dive we can follow the relevant parties on Twitter. And now, I guess — and maybe even especially — we can get it here.
And I actually bet "here" evolves into something inherently valuable; it has that whiff about it. Still, it came into being because the Gawker staff used Campfire or Base Camp or whatever the hell to snipe at and engage each other and blow of steam and now even that one private venue must be made public?
I guess my question is, what does that leave? Inevitably the staff will find another private venue through which to bitch and vent and retain agency, though now there will be this place to service as well, leaving a share less energy for everyone's authentic-ish, non-performative-y "real" self.
And maybe so what? I could be superimposing my own temperament onto a group of people quite different from me — to be an online writer is in part to be publicly fascinating, adorable for $$$. Baseball players don't seem put out to have to play the game, in fact the trouble mostly starts when they retire.
Yet I look at Hillary Clinton and wonder if there is anyone left inside. Particularly in the modern era, when her every waking moment could potentially be on the record and her innermost confidant the next tell-all author, to whom does she confide? Anyone? A life always onstage sounds terrifying and exhausting and ultimately spirit-killing. I bet you get to a place where there is no separation at all between the real and the public "you" — or at least some do. Yet it seems to me more and more of us are being dragged farther and farther away from all shadows. Soon all of us will have to be small-scale 24/7 Hillary Clintons and Gawker employees will most assuredly get there first. They may even take to it, many will, Hillary sure seems to. I doubt I will do quite so well, and having to utterly reformulate my public — now only — stance sounds like a terrifying chore with scant payoff.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, cute post!
8
relax dude
9
I'm forced to say my insults to Sam directly to his face now. Your dystopian predictions are all coming true.
