Goaded by a commenter, writer Rex Sorgatz wrote a passionate defense of those who share intimate details of their lives online. The media blogger (and recent author of a piece on microfame for New York) had linked to his anonymous Tumblr blog, which documented conversations Rex had about New York and the hookup scene. (The blog was outed even more quickly than Rex expected.) Rex says his pillow-talk conversations weren't oversharing, and fuck you for accusing him of that. So what's his defense, and is there anything still too intimate to blog?
Rex says:
If that fucking Tumblr is oversharing, then so is writing a goddamn novel. It's just some random fucking quotes that I sorta thought summarized a certain kind of feeling, aesthetic, angst at this particular historical moment.
And:
I don't like this reactionary voice on the internet that wishes to turn everything into bland, impersonal, "boredwithit" blog junk. The internet was once a big experiment of people trying out new personal forms, but we've reached this new place in which the only allowed first person accounts are those that involve peoples' motherfucking babies, trips to cupcake shops, and OMG I HATE MY BOSS LET ME TELL YOU WHY.
Furthermore:
Seriously, why the fuck does David Sedaris, or Augusten Burroughs, or Klosterman, or any number of lesser memoirists who make less hyperbolic examples of confession culture — why exactly do they get to "overshare"? Where did they get their license?
But:
There really is a line that people have crossed that IS over-sharing, in the bad sense.
Where that line is drawn is left as an exercise to the reader.
"Overshare" is one of Gawker's favorite insults, applied to Emily Gould's NYT Mag piece, a memoir about J. D. Salinger, a photo of a cumshot on a sex blog, and a pickup line from Michael Musto.
Do all these stories deserve the same label? Are none of them merited? Are we just using "overshare" as a coy little criticism instead of thinking out a proper response? I posit no, some, and yes respectively!
Photo by Scott Beale