An analogy: if a musician practices 300hrs for a concert, and then his agent burns all the invitations and no one comes: was it all a waste?
Why put time here, where virtually none of my followers even sees my writing anymore—when irl I change people’s lives with words ~daily?
We shall be judged for squandering our talents. I could spend six hours writing something for here/blogworld, or six hours on correspondence that enlivens the sorrowful, bestows beaming smiles and bright laughter, guides the lost back towards wisdom, etc. The former was attractive because that same six hours could touch many people instead of few: but I don’t think it is many, anymore. I used to have orders of magnitude more engagement than now.
Practicing my musical instruments is rather inarguably a better, more beautiful use of time (my most priceless treasure) than posting into the void here. Rambo is correct: Musk had a once-in-a-generation sociocultural technology on his hands and then drove it into the ground (and dissolved the wreckage with acid), because—what, his companies need more market valuation? More advertising? He is not yet wealthy enough? Lucre is, as ever, seemingly omnipotent over the unregenerate human spirit.
But I still lightly, airily post for a few frens who somehow see anything of mine here. As I always say, Love Wins. The future remains irl.
When
@elon bought Twitter and let down the guardrails, it became the most incredible medium for creative expression I'd ever witnessed. Anything was possible. I could post whatever I wanted. And so I did...