A blog post, like a signpost, is itself an indication of direction: here we are, at the beginning of something new. Distance to greatness: unknown, perhaps unknowable, but somewhere over there —> from left to right, writing flush with the Western line of sight.
A blog post, I assume, is derived from the action of posting a notice on a board, or on a pole. Downtown St. John’s, where I live, is plastered with such posts; layers of tape like palimpsest attesting to past events, rallies, and protests, forgotten but not entirely lost. Posts can change the world–at the very least they have changed the church: I am reminded of the ten commandments and Martin Luther’s 95 theses.
We use posts to demarcate, delineate, draw borders. We survey, and we record. We differentiate. We separate us from them, here from there, now from then. We discuss. We confront. We war. We reverberate. It’s not always good.
We use the post’s not-so-distant cousin, the stake, to slay vampires. To pin down tents in a breeze. To make a claim. To put everything on the line.
The post tells us we’ve moved on, or creates the illusion of movement. Mothers are postpartum, the dead are posthumous. Our literature is postmodern, we write for posterity. We pretend to be post-racism, post-sexism. We are post-war and somehow still pre-peace.
We post to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, WordPress, Reddit. We post on the internet. We post letters. We proclaim, we protest. We text. We voice. We discuss. It’s communicative.
We live by the post, for the post, after the post, before the post. With all these posts, physical and verbal, the directions can be overwhelming.