On Personal Blogging, Briefly

I have been dabbling at the form of self-expression known as "actually fucking writing" for what basically amounts to a minute and change at this point, and the long-form results are slowly becoming, twisting, evolving (so, yes, becoming) into a collection of mostly-true but equally-fabricated stories about a young male growing up over-educated and over-eager to experience every fucking thing in life that I am calling We Give Ourselves Habits In Order To Live. 

I am reading from this as-yet-unacquired little tome of darkness and (hopefully) light this Wednesday, Nov the 18 at a reading series hosted by Writers House's Michael Mejias at Kettle Of Fish in NYC.

This is sort of eating away at my ability to blog properly. And I am trying, really, to get back that-I never thought I'd see the day where I write about music more than I write about myself.

I don't know what it is about suddenly both allowing myself the fallibility of the facade of fiction, but suddenly the last thing in the world I want to talk about is...me.

What IS that? Why is personal blogging the most difficult thing in the world right now?

Not sure. I'm sure I'll check in after Wednesday.

Comments

[Collin Kelley]

Wow. I also posted today about personal blogging, or lack thereof. Read it and weep.