Home > general bs. > A portrait of the artist as a young man.

A portrait of the artist as a young man.

The first thing you should know about me is that I rarely if ever know how to introduce myself properly. In writing it always comes out uneven and selfconscious, heavily blueprinted to include all the fine details no one upon meeting you could possibly care about. You dont care yet, do you? Well I rest my case. For now, then, let’s skip that part. It isnt important. Perhaps in time it will be. Yes, perhaps! perhaps something here, one day, neither soon nor many moons from now, will pique your interest, stir your soul in so profound a way that you weep unknowingly, your cheeks slaked with tears and shining under the surreal wash of the hanging fluorescent lights that buzz in their scaffolds—then again, I’d be glad to know it helped you kill time sitting on the john.

I decided to start this blog (today, it might be important to note: 23 November 2010, let it be known) for a handful of reasons:

    1) I hadnt ever had one before. For the most part they’re unbearable, the writers, the content, all of it. Dont worry. Feel free to nitpick mine to the grave and spit in the dirt. Certainly there is a great probability that this little corner of webspace will never rise from obscurity (I’d flatter myself to say it would fall into obscurity), and I’d put good money on that too. However—I have an angle. It’s cunning. Some might say original. Ready for it? My opinions dont matter. They arent revelations and arent ever meant to be.

    2) I might like to keep one. In this era of rampant, furious technology, journals are laughable relicts of a bygone time. You might find them in museums: as you progress along the timeline you’ll see entries atrophy to mere shorthand and from there to reams of blank pages. I like books and films and traveling, the process of writing, and, for me, there’s no more convenient way to discuss or muse upon these topics nonacademically.

And lastly:

    3) My university decided to accept me (again) into a study abroad program in Ireland. Cork, Galway, and Dublin—two weeks in each city. Last year the program had an option for travel-writing; this year the same idea loosened up to include any sort of writing so long as it pertains, of course, to the Irish experience. We have to keep a blog for it. Consider this a headstart.

In fact, consider this a longterm outlet (optimistic, are we?), a keepsake of my passions and time in Europe. You may have noticed the title of this blogpost—and rolled your eyes: Oh but how pretentious! you cry—and while, yes, it sweats highfalutin pretension, it is accurate. That, and it ties in nicely with my equally literary blogtitle. You may applaud.

The second thing you should know about me is that I, like with introductions, rarely if ever know how to excuse myself from conversation, so

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