magencubed
@magencubed

So, now that it looks like Twitter is really, for real, 100% this time, going to go under, here we are. The slow motion car crash that is the blue bird app is what brought me here, and I can assume brought many of the people reading this now, as well.

I've been on Twitter for 12-ish years, according to the anniversary pop-up that shamed me for wasting over a decade on a site that I love and hate and is slowly trying to kill me. In that time, I've seen every horrible thing a place like Twitter can cough up like a cat hacking a fur ball onto the rug. Awful things have happened to me and to acquaintances. Good things have happened, too. Frenzied, wild, up-all-night things, that you can only experience by the blue light of your phone at 3AM with a million other sleepless people. Real memories that I look back on fondly. I've been through it, posted through, came out the other side sometimes worse, sometimes better, but always in step with the...

I don't know. The verve of the place? The vibe. The mood. The culture. The Twitter culture.

The idea that we were doing...something. Saying something. Even if it was just screaming into the void at 3AM bathed in blue light because you had no one else to say it to, you were doing something. It was like carving our names in trees and making meaning out of the meaninglessness of an endless, anachronistic scroll.

So if Twitter goes away, what of the culture will remain?

What of the culture of Cohost?

The thing is, as I type all this, I don't know if I really participated in Twitter culture. At least, not the culture that I understood Twitter to have from my seat on the bleachers. I tried to keep my head down and not start drama or grift people. I don't do cults of personality. I shot my mouth off, sure, and I argued for or against things, but I never tried to make myself A Character on Twitter. I tended my garden, I handled my business, and you either liked me or you didn't. But that's the way I've always been. On Facebook before Twitter. On LiveJournal before Facebook. Even on Tumblr during my stint there in it's supposed glory days. I tell jokes. I run my mouth. I talk about art and craft and my thoughts and processes. I hoot and holler my work and the things I like.

So, what is Cohost...like?

Will I still be me on Cohost?

Who are we going to be on Cohost?

I don't know, but it's worth considering as we watch the bad old place we use to go to to talk to our friends drift away. Was it really so bad? Maybe not. Maybe it was worse. Maybe we have a chance to do something else here.


You must log in to comment.

in reply to @magencubed's post:

Yeah, telling people I am going to cohost and I think, 'to do what exactly?' To practice markdown? 2022 has been a lot of me looking at social media and saying, I just want to be a little weirdo here. But i also need this thing to let people know I exist and my work exists. Trying to not let my single self be all things to all people, because I'm not a single self. no one is. This year. Woof. Wishing us all the best in this new environment.

My impression of Cohost after a few months here is that it's taken off as much as it has mostly because it established a Posting Culture very quickly, and the broad framework is something like

  • It's good to share your thoughts on whatever interests you with other people, if you want. Some of the first posts I saw that got me to stick around were long form writing on stuff that was just obviously written because the author wanted to talk about it--an ancient computer or a shader node tree or a weird incident three folks remember from the early days of indie game dev or a pokemon. If it's for any audience at all, it's for people who can find things interesting purely because someone else has an interesting perspective on it and cares about it deeply or just thinks it's cool.

  • There tends to be an assumption of good faith in casual interactions. I think having comments helps with this, because you aren't doing anything to impact a post or a user's visibility by responding to them directly on a topic--it's just talking.

  • I have never gotten the sense that we're supposed to Cultivate An Audience at all, so being an established choster is mostly just responding to other folks' work/thoughts/shitposts and sharing your own. I saw someone note a while back that following blogs feels less like a commitment because right now there's no expectation that a mutual is your ally or someone you're endorsing. So unfollowing isn't a big deal.

  • I've seen a lot of interesting thoughts about what it means to be on a site where we can kind of decide what "success" looks like beyond financial sustainability for the creators and their goals for Cohost. It's not trying to kill any other service and really the only people who can decide it's dead or not are the people using it; there were posters active when a few hundred users were on the site and if there were a few hundred again, and that could be maintained moneywise, it would be a site that many people use for posting stuff rather than a dead platform. Because what's here has value and is worth keeping for its own sake, not because it's Content that drives Engagement.

My hope is that, if nothing else, this is a place where folks can hang out and chill for a while and just do whatever they want. There are probably people here just to be around others and talk about things that make them feel better while this bullshit goes down, and if they don't stay it's still good to have that right now.

Cohost feels promising, which is a start. Twitter was/is a mess but I'll miss the randomness of information, the collective reactions delighting in some ridiculous event (we've had so many in the UK lately that shitposting through it has been the only coping strategy for me), and finding creators' work. Won't miss the trolls and bigots, though

Twitter has become a place where angry people shout at angry people, who then shout louder to try to be heard above the din. My hopes for Cohost is that it can be a quieter, more reflective place, where interesting people can talk about interesting things, learning from each other and making a human connection through common interests.