The great labelling experiment is over. I have read through all 733 Headscissors blog posts, and have assigned each of them categories.
As activities go, this must rank among the most self-indulgent ever attempted by a human. I've been reading my own words, which often refer to my own words (and in some cases refer to themselves referring to themselves). And now I'm writing about it.
It has taken about a month, and I'm now at the stage where I want myself to be punished for wasting my own time. I deserve a punch for every time I've hit the space bar over the past five years.
The idea was to label the posts, to make them easier to find. I was also hoping to rediscover some entries that would otherwise be forgotten.
I didn't do this for me, dear reader. I did it for you. Navigating the choppy waters of a long-running, little-read blog can be daunting for a new reader. I have provided you with a map. Or a compass. Or a parrot who seems to know what it's doing.
On the right-hand panel of this page, you'll find a long list of labels, demonstrating the scope of my writing. It's pretty exhaustive, except for all of the ones I've missed. As I went on, I wished I'd had certain labels from the beginning. "Time travel" never made it onto the list, but would probably apply to 20% of what I've written.
So, what conclusions can we draw from this study? I'm self-obsessed. That's the main one.
Another is that, despite my initial fears, the quality of my posts has remained reasonably constant. I have good spells and bad spells, but there was never a "golden age" of amazing writing.
What about the labels themselves? What can they teach us about the blog's author?
Let's have a look at the top twenty labels. The number in parentheses refers to the number of blog posts which have that label.
Good (196)
Solipsism (115)
Music (99)
Over-Analysis (77)
Stand-Up (73)
Writing (68)
Video (62)
Picture (58)
Social Skills (56)
Story (53)
Film (52)
Idioms (52)
Tweets (52)
Insanity (49)
Sketch (43)
Jokes (42)
Self-Reflexivity (41)
Books (40)
TV (38)
Internet (36)
Politics (36)
Serious (36)
(There's actually 22 here, but the last few are tied)
The number one label is "Good". This makes me seem arrogant. But keep in mind that I didn't bother with a "Bad" label, because I didn't want to crush my spirits in such concrete terms.
These aren't all actually good. I just wanted to mark out the better posts. These are the ones that require further study, possibly by a team of eager PhD students who committed horrible acts in a past life.
I might go through these, and upgrade some to "Actually Quite Good" when I get the chance. If you click on this label, you're viewing the cream of the crop. Admittedly, the crop is a disgusting barley, and the cream has turned, but still...
196 "Good" posts out of 733 in total. That's 26.74%.
So just over a quarter of what I write is worthwhile. I think we can consider that a triumph.
But "Good" isn't a real label. We can discount that. What's the topic which I deal with most?
In a healthy second place with 115 posts is "Solipsism". I don't think anyone (least of all me) will be surprised to see it high on the list. However, we might wonder why there aren't more posts with this label. This whole blog is basically an exercise in self-obsession. There's an undercurrent (or in some cases: an overcurrent) of solipsism in EVERY post. I suppose I just noted the ones where it was most pronounced. ("Self-Reflexivity" features with 41 entries, hammering this point home. [Isn't that right, Paul?"] And I've brilliantly written 11 posts containing significant "Arrogance")
"Music" is surprisingly high, mainly because of the various Youtube videos I've posted. I don't think I've written too much about it.
"Over-Analysis" is another strong, and expected, part of my arsenal.
You'll notice there are 49 posts that I've labelled as "Insanity". These aren't times where I've discussed insanity, but when what I've written could reasonably have been thought of as insane.
But for really extreme cases of this, there's the "Actual Insanity" label, which only has 3 posts. Click on these at your own risk.
The rest of the leaders are generally to be expected.
The real fun comes further down the list. Some of the most interesting include:
- Liquid (8)
- Salad Bar (8)
- Cereal (4)
- Smaste (4)
- Penny Crayon (2)
- Snikeblomming (2)
- Corn on the Cobs (1)
- Fetus Hummus (1)
- Neneh Cherry (1)
Anyway, those are the labels. Fun labels. Everyone loves labels, right?
Having done the hard work, I might... you know.. do something with this, or whatever.
There were a couple of entries that really made me think I was a genius. And many more that made me think I was an idiot for thinking the first thing.
Oh well, doing this has wasted a large proportion of my life. That's some comfort.
***
To counterbalance all of these dry statistics, here's something wet and innumerate:
Fresh Content
"The house prices are dirt cheap here," said Lydia, over the sound of the guns. "Some people - picky people - don't like the idea of living right near a firing squad."
Through a chain-link fence, Kat saw a corpse being dragged by its feet.
"I don't see what the big deal is," continued Lydia. "I don't even notice it. We've got a lovely, cheap house with no drawbacks, as far as I'm concerned."
A priest was smoking a fag and looking over at them.
"So how often do they, you know..." Kat struggled to find the right words. "Do it. The firing squad."
"Depends on the time of year. It's not too busy round now. Maybe sixteen or seventeen a day?"
"Oh. Well, that's not too bad."
A loud wail came from the compound. The priest sighed irritably and stubbed out his cigarette.
Another wail.
"ALL RIGHT! I'M COMING!" He checked his phone twice and walked slowly back inside.
"I didn't even know they did firing squads anymore," said Kat, nursing a cup of low-calorie hot chocolate that that Lydia had made her without asking.
"It's the only sensible way really." Lydia checked her watch. "There'll be another one in a minute. If you wanna watch."
"Oh," said Kat. "Nah. I'm all right."
They were sitting on Lydia's brand new patio furniture. It was cold, and Kat wondered why they weren't inside.
"Sometimes you can see stuff. Afterwards, I mean. It's like a cloud of red mist."
"Cool. Cool."
There was a commotion from the compound. They could hear the sound of a scuffle, but then everything went quiet.
"Dirt cheap," repeated Lydia.
Kat had just got to the brown silt at the bottom of her mug when a man appeared at the fence. He wasn't the priest. He looked dirty and his hands were bound.
"Hi," said Kat.
Lydia looked over at him and scowled. "Are you supposed to be here?"
The man looked at Lydia. "No," he said. "I'm not supposed to be here. That's the point."
He waited for a few seconds, as though waiting to be invited in, and then started to scale the fence.
"What are you doing?!" asked Lydia, outraged. "You can't come in here!"
He clumsily negotiated his way over the top of the fence and dropped down onto the patio. He was barefoot.
"My name's Malcolm," he said.
"I'm Kat," said Kat.
"Don't talk to him, for Christ's sake!" Lydia had stood up from her recliner, put her own (full fat) hot chocolate on the white plastic table, and stood poised. "Get out! This is my house!"
"I'm sorry to bother you," said Malcolm, ignoring Lydia and directing his attention to Kat. "Would you mind if I borrowed your phone?"
"Um... no. I suppose not." Kat got her phone out of her pocket, but Lydia slapped it to the ground.
"What are you doing?! He's a maniac!"
"I'm really not," said Malcolm, again only to Kat. "Honestly. I'd tell you if I was."
"Where are the guards?!" Lydia ran over to the chain-link fence and peered through.
"Listen, Kat. I know we've only just met. And I know you don't have any reason to trust me. And that's... totally understandable. It is. But I'm in a bit of a pickle here, and I was wondering if you could help me."
As he was saying this, Lydia had run over to the shed and picked up a rake. She returned, brandishing it.
"What do you need?" asked Kat, who was secretly quite pleased to be talking to someone other than Lydia.
"Have you got a car?" asked Malcolm. "Would you mind giving me a lift?"
An alarm klaxon blared from the compound, along with distant indignance and distant dogs.
"Um..." she looked over at Lydia, who looked back with a furious, incredulous look (also, her arms were getting tired from holding the rake). "Sure, why not?"
"Great!" said Malcolm. "We can get to know each other on the way."
Kat picked up her phone from the floor and got her car keys out of her pocket. Lydia was frozen in rake-laden horror. She couldn't speak.
The dogs got louder.
"Do you like millionaires' shortbread?" asked Malcolm, on the way to the car. "I found some in one of the kitchens."
Kat paused, open-mouthed. Eventually, she said "I love millionaires' shortbread".
Malcolm smiled. Kat smiled.
No comments:
Post a Comment