So now this: an account, let's say (whimsically), of one man's battle with the gods.
The minor gods, of course, as those are the only ones left.
Notes on literature, culture, politics—on the experience of a self (various, bewildered, imperious) in time.
I've decided to begin a blog—a plodding word for one's literature—because I'm interested in the way that thinking is changing. I'm convinced that it is, and the changes must have something to do with the way we make our thoughts, and share them. So I want to try blog-thinking, in part to see what happens to my writing—or, more to the point, to me—when my thoughts take this form.
Also I'm frustrated by how little writing I actually do.
And by my solitude, far from many minds I miss. I want this to be seen as my attempt to continue conversations that were once essential to me and have now fallen silent.
Let's begin with those ambitions and justifications. They should be taken lightly, as I just made them up, distracted and feeling, this evening, unwell.