I'll write a new post everyday in November; the most I've done in a one month period. Care to join in and match that output? There won't be any prizes, but the benefits to one's blogging might be enough to give it a shot. And we can do some linking or other standard forms of blogging ettiquette. Whatever suits. But the posts cannot be pre-written; it must be all new material.
4 comments, since Nove
Davidya,
I have never been a prolific post-er. But I suppose this is more out of curiosity than anything else. I'll be watching carefully to see what happens.
Good luck on the quest, Takuin I posted over 30 a month, often over 40 for 5 months earlier this year. Not as a goal but simply as so much asked to be said. Not daily but often. Sometimes several on a theme.
That did indeed increase readership, attracted new readers, and so on. A few articles were dugg by others, creating large spikes. But those readers were skimmers. They didn't follow links or stay to explore for the most part. Just touch and gone.
It is very curious. The drive to write dropped way back recently and 2 other blogs I follow also went way down in posts. It will be interesting to see how yours goes.
words are for playing around to have fun, they cannot explain anything, they should not. in its most beautiful form they are literature and may have a granule of truth in it. By the way I am an artist at the age of 43. Black Poem Self be your lantern, Self be your guide - Thus spake Tathagata Warning of radios That would come Some day And make people Listen to automatic Words of others
and the general flash of noises, forgetting self, not-self. - Forgetting the secret. . . .
Up on high in the mountains so high the high magic priest are swabbing in the deck of broken rib torsos cracked in the rack of Kallaquack tryin to figure yr way outa the calamity of dust and eternity, buz, you better get on back to your kind b o a t
Jack Kerouac: Heaven and Other Poems
...and yet, in the end, all one is left with is sound. And those sounds may be crafted in such a way as to bring a point to infinity, as in the most beautiful literature.
The point may dissolve, but the sounds still seem to arise.