Friday, May 21, 2010

Roaring seaward, and I go.

I seek out encouragement everywhere. I crave it: I'm mostly Irish by blood, a heritage renowned for producing literary talent; Geoffrey Chaucer was my great great great great great great grandpa, or something; I get good grades in English class, I grub for them, get weird, possibly disingenuous notes returned graded papers; I'm a Scorpio, just like Kurt Vonnegut, Zadie Smith, and Colson Whitehead. This can't be coincidence.

Occasionally I even write.

(I just started a . . .what? A sister blog, maybe? To this one? It's called What the hell, Hector? and it strives toward overbearing, outrageous entertainment. Much fun, new story coming this week.)

Who was it that said good literature is the product of a conflicted heart? Faulkner, I think it was.

Maybe I can find faith in that, as I've been rather conflicted lately.

So. I am on vacation. On each day of this week-long vacation I will complete some literary act. Or maybe the week will be one long literary act. Maybe it'll be performance art. Maybe I'll post blogs as I go; maybe I'll post them as one big blogsplat at the end of the week. I haven't decided yet.

Here's what I've read this past week: John Dies at the End, David Wong. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann. Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, David Lipsky.

All good in their own ways. LtGWS especially, is heart-rending.

I realize that this blog is pretty much directionless; I'll work on that in the future.

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