Nostalgia

One thing I’ve learned from going back and reading my old stories, the ones I never finished but posted, piece by piece, on the old Xanga blog site, is that I used to be much more popular. Every post had 40-some comments on it. Who were those people? Some of them are you—most of the people reading this pale-shadow-of-its-former-self blog moved over here from Xanga after the big meltdown. But most of them are gone. WordPress is a poor substitute for the community we had over there.

Granted, it was probably Facebook that killed it. One after the other, bloggers would fade out, posting less and less or not at all while frittering their time away micro-blogging their daily trials on Zuck’s site.

I miss that friendly bloggy community. I miss the way we got to know each other—strangers all over the world—by reading and interacting with written words. Remember Lord Pineapple? I cried when he died, for him and his poetry, though I never met that crusty old man. A Brit, wasn’t he?

I miss the endlessly controversial front page and the arguments over who should decide what ought to be featured and why and for how long. I even miss the hundreds of youngsters who always posted fawning comments on Dan the Theologian’s site for no apparent reason. What did they like about him? I still don’t know.

There’s a Xanga group on the Facebook and from there I’ve learned that John and company are still building a Xanga 2.0 and they still think people are going to pay to use it. Doubtful. You can’t go home again and no pay-to-play site is ever going to recapture the essence of Xanga. We were all so young and hopeful! Hell, we were practically a sitcom.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this blog, given how tiny the audience is now, but sometimes I sit down and I feel like I need to write out whatever is on my mind. And surely someday my biographer will be glad I left this easily accessible public journal rather than scribbling in a book that could easily be lost to fire or flood or carelessness. You’re welcome, future.

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