Do you hear what I hear?
It is hard, isn't it, to pick out one coherent voice in the cacophony? This weird online world we choose to visit is a hubbub of voices striving to be heard. Unless you have a good ear it is likely to sound like generic crowd noise, the "rhubarb rhubarb" of the extras.
Those who shout loudest are not necessarily those worth listening to, though that doesn't mean that those who whisper have anything groundbreaking to say either. They just want you to lean in close, a subtle yet effective seduction technique.
Finding a writer you enjoy reading as you skip from site to site is a bit like tuning in your radio. You turn the dial and hear someone reading the news, the cricket scores, a burst of music, a burst of static, until suddenly you find something that makes you pause. You sing along if it's a song you know. You consider phoning in if it's a discussion topic you have an opinion on. You hope that what follows next will be as enjoyable. If it is you'll tune in again next time, if it isn't you turn the dial and move on.
What I find most frustrating is finding an original, interesting voice and tuning in each day to find it slowly becoming assimilated into the bland melange, until it is no longer distinguishable from any other voice in the chattering babble.
What I find most amusing is a voice trying to disguise its accent. "Ay em no longer a sex bloggar," they enunciate, carefully. "Ay em a literate!" This is entertaining enough to tune into on a daily basis just to hear the gradual re-emergence of their true voice as the effort of maintaining the facade becomes too great to sustain. "Ay was listening to some opera last night," they will announce. "Being classy like what I am, and, oh, fuck me ragged, guv, those great big wobbly men make me so wet! Have I mentioned my stockings today? Sex!"
That makes me dance around the living room in sheer, unadulterated joy.