I spent some time not writing knowing that I was supposed to do so, because otherwise the value of my blog would be questionable. But what do you do if there is nothing you can write about? Citing “news” which in fact are not really relevant to one’s life? There is a limit to what I can write about in a blog, personal things for example. You would not really want to give anyone the chance of using search engines to learn about your weak spots, especially your enemies and competition. This is paradox somehow, because I can never really use a blog in its original sense, but on the other hand by allowing these sites to be indexed, I do want to be read by the public.

Perception without exhibition. Cowardness? Or careful consideration of the impacts of one’s behaviour? You are held accountable for the way you are describing events, what seems to be important and what is omitted by you. There is no way around it. So essentially my silence over the past weeks was fueled by the feeling of not having anything appropriate to say. I did feel like writing about a great deal of things, but they were not suitable for the public eye. There is no such thing as privacy unless you cease publishing on the Internet by pulling the plug.

My musical creativity is at a record low: Since January I have accumulated nine fragments that do not make much sense. On the other hand I created some good graphical artwork as compensation (used as covers for netlabel releases). I was even fortunate enough to publish an artist on the netlabel who even became part of the latter. I should resume my writing and hope for the best, but much like Antoine Roquentin, I loathe listening to other’s music and review it. Why would I want to play an useful idiot for them and help them promote their releases? How many of them would bother to listen to my music? What are my motives? Am I doing this because I want to do it?