March 06, 2006

Sometime last week, a nice girl whom I’ve never met sent me a list of intimate questions. “I’m not going all fangirl on you,” she assured me. “Rather, I’m writing a profile for a journalism unit at school.”

When she said that, my tummy did all sorts of crazy tumbles like it does whenever I try to stand up in the middle of an earthquake. I was flattered and vaguely worried that high schoolers have now seen my naked ass on the internet.

“Umm. Sure,” I said. I sent in my answers and three days later she sent me a copy of the profile she wrote. She wrote such nice things about me, I blushed repeatedly. And she daringly chose to include the photo of me juggling naked to accompany her article. Crazy!

And because I know you’re curious, here are some of the questions she asked:

How long have you been writing your blog? How many hits do you get on average?

I started the blog in November 2003 when I was feeling depressed about … umm … girls. Since then I wrote 793 entries and now I get about 375 visitors per day. I used to get a lot more visitors a few months ago when my blog was more wildly exciting.

Did you do all the coding/designing for your blog and wluexposed? Are you self-taught?

I designed the graphical layout of my blog because I enjoy that type of shit, but I didn’t code all the functionality. I mean, some things, came in a package (e.g. Movable Type). Other things I had to code myself (like integrating the photo gallery into the interface or creating the friends list).

The best thing about having a blog is that it forces you to learn new things, like how to design interesting web sites, how to manage domains, and how to construct interactive elements into a site.

What inspired you to start, and what inspires you to keep writing? (Are you writing for the comments and responses that you get from people, or does it not matter to you either way?)

My readers’ feedback makes everything I do a lot more meaningful. I love it when people interact with me because blogs are ultimately social tools. Indeed, I think that the best thing that happened on my blog was that time a couple of weeks ago when I let everybody post on my blog. For once people showed me their nakedness, instead of vice-versa, and that was deeply satisfying. So yes, the feedback I get, especially when I’m dealing with tough shit, definitely brightens up my day.

Of course, when I started my blog I got little feedback and few readers. What motivated me then was this potential for interaction. Writing a blog is like opening the door to your house and waiting to see who drops by for tea.

Do you read other blogs on a regular basis? Have you ever met anybody in person after reading their blog?

Again, blogs are intensely social constructions. It’s impossible to write a blog without reading other blogs and interacting with those writers. My friends list, for example, makes it easy to explore what they are going through.

And now a funny story: before I ever met Laura I read her blog. It intrigued me enough that I yearned to meet her, especially since we had so many people and things in common. She now jokes that she saw my penis on the internet before she ever met me.

For me, the boundaries between blogs and real life are very diffuse. Some people I only knew online have come into my life to form strong, meaningful relationships, and people I know in “real life” are pulled into my blog since I write about them compulsively.

What were you like in high school? Are you much different now?

I hated high school. It was a stifling, torturous, and deeply hostile environment. It might have something to do with being an immigrant going through the school system; or it just might be that high school is a deeply fucked up institutions. I found that life became enjoyable only after I left high school. University gave me the chance to experiment and to discover new things about myself (like the fact that I like running around naked and posting my penis on the internet).

You get a fair bit of negative feedback about what you write (and the pictures you post), why do you think that is? Do these people even know you or are they just malevolent strangers?

I haven’t received a good, honest hate message in months. I rather miss having people who know nothing about me tell me to go fuck myself. Unless you’re able to get people angry about something, then perhaps you’re doing something wrong.

On a side note, some of the people who have been the most virulent on my blog, have been my friends. Ha. I had a friend once who deeply disapproved not only of me being outrageous on my blog, but also of me “putting the moves” on his ex girlfriend. He got his friends to plaster my blog with nasty messages. It was pretty awesome and heartrending.

Are you significant others/friends always comfortable with the detailed and exceedingly revealing nature of your posts? Do you think that you’ve ever revealed too much?

I’m always deeply aware that I am writing about people and I never want to hurt anyone who is part of my life. That’s why I tend to be extremely cautious about what I post about others. While it’s ok for me to disclose my own secrets, I don’t feel comfortable disclosing anyone else’s experiences.

That said, for the most part my people have been pretty understanding of what I do. But sometimes I fuck up quite badly. Once, for instance, I wrote about going to the stag shop with my friend to buy a dildo for his girlfriend. Though I showed extreme restraint by not writing anything nasty about throbbing cocks and dripping orifices, I should have realized that writing about the experience of buying an intimate item would make both my friend and his girlfriend very awkward.

One of my favourite posts is about the cross-province road trip you took with Laura, also the clearly popular How to Dance Naked in Trevor’s Kitchen. A lot of what you write about is exciting, spontaneous and bizarre — what would your advice be to anyone aspiring to that? (Not that I’m trying be like you…..well, ok, maybe a little bit.)

I’m glad that you do enjoy those posts — that means a lot to me.

And I’ll tell you this: wine and tenderness help a lot. And also this: if you want to write something that is exciting, spontaneous and bizarre, you have to start by being exciting, spontaneous, and bizarre. And it’s best if you find your own way of expressing this craziness. I found that having a blog allows me to engage with the world on a different level — it allows me to take new risks, to push boundaries, and to run around naked because everything is suddenly a new, exciting experiment and nothing can go wrong.

And, of course, the really exciting thing is the larger narrative that emerges, the subtle connections between people and ideas that make life meaningful.

Anything in closing? (Anything you think people should know about you, or could learn from you…)

Ha. I feel awkward when I have to be all pedantic and shit. But people, especially those who are just starting a blog, should learn that for the first few months the entries will absolutely suck. If they’re like me, they will try to do exactly what I did and let poetry and sorrow drip onto the page. I think that process leaves everyone exhausted; it doesn’t make for good reading. Ultimately they should learn to relax, to enjoy the process without being emo and soulful. It takes a while to learn how to write honestly to people — I’m still learning.

Oh, and if you want a random trivia fact, in real life I’m shy and rather awkward. And I have this awesome accent!

Oh, one last thing. There was a rumour about a picture of someone’s naked lower half adorning the desktops of the library computers at Laurier. I might be completely off, but was that you?

Ha. That’s a rumour I haven’t heard before — let me know if you find out more about it. But it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that’s the case, mainly because of what happened in Brantford. The WLUSU office in Brantford used to have exactly two computers that everybody used for everything. They were old, decrepit computers. I didn’t know any of this when I first scanned my penis and posted it on the internet. The next day, someone in Brantford set my penis as the background for those old, decrepit computers that everyone used. And worst, for the following two months nobody was able to remove my penis from those computers — as soon as anybody tried, the computers would crash and the penis would appear again. When I finally went down to Brantford a year later, everybody joked that my penis was like some kind of virus that would never go away.

I think it would be funny, but not entirely surprising, if the same thing happened at Laurier.

Posted by Tudor at 01:10 PM in Various Positions | TrackBack