Soft White Underbelly

Remember the old days when the internet was anonymous?

I blog a lot. I have been blogging a lot since 2006 or so. Holy crap, that’s over 10 years! I hadn’t thought about that until just now. That’s a long time.

Wait, what was I talking about?

I blog a lot, but it’s purely for fun. I post pictures, I post music, I post short videos, I write about whatever crap is spewing out of my brain. Once in a great while I write about something I’m thinking about at work. It’s nothing special, it’s just something I do for myself because it’s kinda fun and it feels creative (sort of) and it gives my musical and photographic goofing around a sort of focus. Maybe destination is a better word. Whatever, I do it because I like to do it.

I have no interest in monetizing my blog, and I also have no interest in paying for services. I have always used free, hosted platforms. Every few years I start feeling bored and I want to change things up. My first public facing blog lasted for four years before I moved to a new platform. My second blog has been running for four years and I have the moving-on itch once again.

A few days ago I decided to stop using my current blog and start reusing an old, abandoned Medium blog that I have messed with on and off for a couple of years. As always, when I leave one platform, my last post is a link to the new platform. That way anyone who is interested in the garbage that leaks out of my brain can follow me. I don’t have a lot of regular readers, but I have a nice bunch. I appreciate their sticking with me through all of the home made music and cat pictures.

Earlier today though I was thinking about doing something different. If I started from scratch today, would I be able to build a following again, or are the people who read my crap the only people who would ever read my crap? That thought wedged itself in my head and wouldn’t let go. If I started from scratch I could change things. I could say anything about anything and have no idea how the readers would react to it. That’s an appealing thought. I could even be (pause for dramatic effect)… Anonymous again.

Have you ever heard of the rock band, Blue Oyster Cult? Moderately big in the 1970’s and early 80’s. Don’t Fear the Reaper, Burning for You, Godzilla? If you are familiar with the More Cowbell sketch from Saturday Night Live, then you are at least passingly familiar with Blue Oyster Cult. Their music is actually irrelevant to this discussion. One of my high school friends was a huge fan. I was a casual fan, but there was one little thing they did that I thought was incredible, and the more I learned about the music business the more incredible it got.

During the height of their popularity, they would occasionally book themselves into small clubs under an assumed name. I guess there were a lot of names that they’d rotate through, but one was Soft White Underbelly. Eventually word spread that SWU was really BOC and people started showing up at the gigs and the effect was ruined. For a while though, they were able to play in small rooms and be completely anonymous. They could play anything they wanted and no one would care. They could leave their fan base and all of the expectations their success brought with it behind and just have a good time playing for themselves. How cool is that?

So I decided to create my own blogging version of Soft White Underbelly. I opened a new Twitter account and used it to open a new Medium account. I plan on following a lot of the same people, and writing about all of the same stupid things. Over the years I’ve always tried to post at least once a day, even if it was just a picture of my cat sleeping or something. I don’t think this blog will see nearly that much activity, but I’ll do my best. I am still going to write on my main blog, the one that people know about. This one though will stay as hidden as possible. I’ll tell my beautiful wife about it but that’s all. Let’s see if blogging in hiding is still as much fun today as it was when I first started posting stuff 10 years ago.

Wish me luck.

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