Pleasing taste, some monsterism.


October 2024 Update: Open Ocean

Date: []
Categories: [journey]

2024-10-01%20Open%20Ocean

Today's Tune: Re-undulate by Kankitsu

There's so much more to see.

Today, October 1st, 2024, is the day Cohost entered read-only mode. That sentence means a lot to some people, including myself, but there's a chance that sentence means absolutely nothing to you if you stumbled across this blog via some method that wasn't me promoting it endlessly on Cohost in the last couple weeks.

In short, Cohost was a website that started in 2022 and will run (or did run, depending on when you read this) until the end of 2024. It's a site that I enjoyed my time on, a site where I made new connections and new friends, a site where I felt seen and valued in an online space where no other website, or app, or platform, or social media made me feel either seen or valued. There were no visible numbers aside from comments. There were CSS crimes. It made posting an art again, rather than an act. Personally, I wouldn't call it a social media platform as it didn't tick the usual boxes that you'd expect to see for social media. When I first joined, I mentally filed it away in my head as a blogging service, but quickly realized that it had something special going on. It offered people a box to put images and writing and code in and share it with no expectations of algorithms and somehow that was enough.

While it wasn't social media, I won't sugarcoat that it developed many of the problems that you'd see on social media in terms of harassment, dogpiling, minorities being shouted down, and the like. I wasn't part of it, I wasn't targeted by it, I didn't see it directly, but I take what others have said about their experience at face value. The legacy that Cohost leaves behind will be picked apart for a long time, I'm sure. My pleasant experience was only one facet of the full experience. Yes, Cohost offered a better experience than what else is out there. It's also important to acknowledge that when the bar is so low that it's in hell, it's not a hard bar to clear.

If there's one thing I've taken away from the last month or so during a year of my life that feels like much of it has shattered to pieces, it's a strange sense of hope. I've seen people start newsletters, spin up blogs, learn how RSS feeds work. These are things I learned about, too; I've maintained a blog for a while, but I never took it that seriously until Cohost announced its closure. There's so many feeds to follow, blogs to bookmark, people to reach out to in the hopes that I'll keep those connections. Some of them will fade away, as happens in life. But maybe some of them will stick. It's been a long time since I felt that sense of newness.

It's given me some hope during a period of my life where things have felt increasingly hopeless. There's a few projects I've wanted to get to for a long time, or I meant to do more of this year and haven't been able to put as much time into as I would have liked. I'm going to put more effort into those things from here on out, as I'm recognizing more and more that there's only so much time available.

So... what's next, anyways?

The last decade and some change has put us all through the wringer, condensing the once-open Internet into four websites all posting pictures of each other to generate capital-C Content in a desperate chase for infinite growth, to skim some money off of someone else's work, to appease Capitalism for just one more day. If there's one big take-away from Cohost that's resonated with me, it's a reminder that we don't need platforms. We have each other. We can make and curate our own spaces. I'm going to do better at curating mine, because one of the greatest forms of creative resistance, at least in my opinion, is to make something not for an audience, but for you and the people you care about most.

We don't need to confine ourselves to little toxic pools. Not anymore. We were convinced that was the only option, but we never had to do that to begin with.

There's a whole open ocean to explore still.