Gory Details

I’ve been stuck in a rut with an uninteresting essay on one side and a time-wasting pamphlet exercise on the other. Since I can’t work up the energy to tackle either of these, I can’t seem to get a footing for a blog post, either.  The essence of the problem is choice.

I have too damn much of it. Websites I visit have focus; they have their topic, or genre, or whatever. Theme. No matter how stuck they get, there is always going back to the well and making something up from that theme. Webcomic? Do a gag strip. Food blog? Go eat some food. Writing blog? Post some poetry or microfiction. Political commentary? Just read a paper and yell a lot. I don’t really have a theme in mind, so this is just a place for me to cut my teeth with my own voice, talk about things, and cultivate an environment where I can unwind from doing whatever it is I wind up doing. I’d like to edit, or write, or just publish (IN A PUBLISHING CLASS NO WAYYYY) and come here to shit-talk at the world.

I… don’t have anything to talk about. This is bad news. I don’t do hobbies I can bleb on about like some go-getting individuals who draw, or crochet, or cook, or have an outlet. I sit and think about things, and sometimes read books. Usually fiction, but not always. Right now, for example, I’m munching through ‘Of Grammatology‘ by Jacques Derrida. It’s somewhere between Philosophy and tool for Literary Analysis. I like using it, as a tool, to break down the value words carry and peel away layers of obfuscation in text. What does someone mean? Can someone mean something? How much of something does this mean? If I look at it this way, how does it change everything else? How many ways can the same text be interpreted?

After this, I’m not sure what to bang through. I have to typeset ‘Alice in Wonderland‘ soon for another Publishing class (which you probably shouldn’t take because it’s actually pretty bad) so… that? It’s hard to say. What I need to read for school and what I want to read for fun are at odds, and the time I can put to either is getting slimmer by the day. There is a light, though, I can see it.

By Mainebot

Old, bitter man made better only by little bits of oil-like language made languid; buy a letter, even a vowel, loose a low arrow always aimed at voluminous alliterated love.