Benjamin blogs

The construction of life online is at present determined far more by links to fun facts than by thoughtful observation - indeed by such serendipitous factoids as have scarcely ever become the basis of convictions. Under these circumstances, rigorous thinking cannot aspire to take place within the extant intellectual framework; this is, rather, the habitual expression of its sterility. Significant intelligence can come into being only in a strict alternation between websurfing and writing; it must nurture the inconspicuous forms that fit its influence in online communities better than does the pretentious, universal gesture of the book - in websites, blogs, emails, and newsgroups. Only this prompt language shows itself actively equal to the moment. Opinions are to the vast apparatus of social existence what oil is to machines: one does not go up to a turbine and pour machine oil over it; one applies a little to hidden spindles and joints that one has to know.

(after W. Benjamin's "Filling Station," the opening of One-Way Street)

The fun fact, then, is the tchotchke of thinking - kitschy, useless, loudly demanding of attention... as quickly obsolete as the ephemeral link. Opinionated writing, from solitary blogging to flame-wars, is both the last reserve of consumer retorts and the oil in the works of the net. Books can be as provisional and as experimental as anything else, but are packaged as complete, written in stone rather than etched in sand, or sketched on virtual graphite. Blogs, sites, newsgroups command attention, but bloggers (not just faux bloggers) are reaching for book contracts because they command respect, even if they are not the contemporary habitat of writing at the speed of thought.