A Quick Word

"In order to go on living one must try to escape the death involved in perfectionism." -Hannah Arendt (1906-1975)

30 August 2009

On the concept of "blogging."

Generally speaking, I don't really like blogs-- I have felt that they appeal to an unhealthy part of the human psyche. "Blogging," it has seemed, was simply a way to communicate publicly thoughts that would have otherwise been written in a private diary or journal. As if to say "Look! This is the way I feel-- now comment on it!" (a notion that I once believed in), the blogger types away, injecting their own thoughts into the flood of discourse that gushes through the wires of the internet every day. And so, years ago, I stepped away from my Xanga page (oh, the old days of LiveJournal and Xanga...) simply because I was admittedly embarrassed; I felt that my most awkward years were captured on the world's stage, naked, for all to see.

Yet, here I am. Obviously blogging. For whatever reason, I feel the need to wiggle my way back into the web before I allow myself to become irrelevant. I don't use Twitter, and I'm not much of a presence on Facebook (despite the fact that I spend so much of my time on there), so I must assert myself somehow. I want to use this as a tool, so that my friends know what I am doing and thinking even when we are separated by hundreds of miles. And, perhaps, the things I have to say will do something more important than that: spark discussion, cause people to think, or simply entertain. After all, I do fashion myself a writer, and so get a great pleasure from pleasing others with my words.

So, welcome to my brain. "In so many words..."


29 August 2009

A few words from William Blake.

"The Human Abstract" (1794)

Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be,
If all were as happy as we;

And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.

He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.

Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Catterpiller and Fly
Feed on the Mystery.

And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his has made
In its thickest shade.

The Gods of the earth and sea,
Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain.