Hello! I am just chiming in to say that I am super busy. I am currently in a stretch of restful days, the likes of which have been spent sleeping, eating, and hopefully recording some music.
I think you are all great and don't have the time to update the blog this very moment. I will soon.
Much love.
p.s. did you guys know today is July 1st?! Summer summer summer!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Empire Falls- Richard Russo
Blog-dom, I have another book report for you. I typed it up and printed it out and brought it to class.
I am reviewing Richard Russo's "Empire Falls." This is a first for me in terms of the author. I had never heard of him before I received a large stack of excellent books from my uncle and aunt (thanks!!!), and now, post read, hope to delve into his literary repertoire.
So, I think I'm just going to hit this one head on. No big subtitles or anything, just a meandering flow of words which convey the river that was this book. Funny, a river (The Knox, to be specific) was actually a central catalyst in the novel. And the river, in classic literary fashion, is again a metaphor for the journey of life and death we all boat through daily. I am getting ahead of myself, maybe some boundaries are needed. Maybe a few less literary analogies pertaining to Siddarthian lore. Lets start....
Here:
The setting is rural Maine. Prologue: Backwater town, once a thriving little gift of life and land, booming with industry. The introduction of semi-main characters. Chapter 1 (and on): cut to present day (maybe 2000?) and the main character is an in-the-process-of-getting-divorced, heavy, humble, simple man named Miles Roby. He has a daughter whom he loves, he is smart and witty, and he has an intensely dysfunctional lifestyle. He is morose about it, but too much seated in inaction to move forward.
Miles' wife is divorcing because of his lack of manly appeal and well, bluntly, sex drive. She is on the road to further discovery. His daughter is early high school, a standout mind and a bit of a loner. There are the Whitings (particularly Mrs. Whiting and her cripple daugher Cindy) and the Robys (the father, the sons, the daugher, the distant relatives) and the priests and the past and the resturant, Empire Grill. Then there's Martha's Vineyard and the effects of old money on small populations, river pollution, mystical magic moments in Mexico, and a murder mystery. And...and.....and.....
.....and I could go on and on. (Through editing I actually covered most of it) What this means, people, is that this book is about characters. Each character is crafted like the statue of David. Russo chisels away, slowly but surely, at the history, job, education, and most importantly mindset of each of his characters. (Counting in my head now...of which there are eight or nine.) He chisels for almost 500 pages, and by the end you feel like all these randomly screwed over screwed up people in rural Main are distant relatives. Russo takes his time to create an intimate setting in a quiet place, gives little shoves to each of his protagonists (they are all good guys when it comes down to it) and then shifts his fictional world in such slowly stuttered filtered effects that it feels like real life.
You may be getting the impression that it was long, which it was, but this is not a complaint. I just want the potential reader to beware that it is a character piece, a languid study in the actions of humanity. And, historically, that has never been a quick process.
The plot of this book is like the tectonic plates. They shift always, they are movin' and a-groovin' to a deep earthy rhythm we cannot hear, and similarly, the little threads of life that Russo writes edge forward until they collide. I would say the uniqueness of this book lies in the collision. No, I won't spoil the ending or anything like that. But, I will say that the monumental discovery and emotional transformation of the main character (Miles Roby) is hinted at and hoped for, and when it does finally happen, it is small. What I mean by this is that, objectively, his discovery of self is pint-sized, there is no reshaping of human future (think Ice-Nine Vonnegut) or religious transformation including horns (Satanic Verses), but instead a simple fact. A simple fact that flips Miles' entire world upside down--much in the way our lives can be so altered by small realizations.
Overall, I don't really understand how one writes a book like this. So much is about building the world, not about what is happening, and yet the further you read the more all the pieces come together. There are adventures and stories, ridiculousness old world oddities and a strong tie to the modern man and his plight. Russo impressed me, which is always a plus. Read it!
-----
Just so you know, I love character studies. The building of a character is sort of the mindset I have been in for some time as a writer--how do I create a character worth reading about, regardless of what he/she is doing--and I have found it to be quite hard. Russo does it easily, and for that I am both jealous and proud.
A quote from the mind of Tick, the daughter of the main character, on this slowness of which I speak:
"And that's the thing, she concludes. Just because things happen slow doesn't mean you'll be ready for them. If they happened fast, you'd be alert for all kinds of suddenness, aware that speed was trump. 'Slow' works on an altogether different principle, on the deceptive impression that there's plenty of time to prepare, which conceals the central fact, that no matter how slow things go, you'll always be slower."
p.s. a lot of this post was about speed...it is nice to feel time having slowed a bit. Typing that I currently think about how the weeks fly by. What is time? Where is time? Why is time? Help??
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Dawn
Hello all. So, it's not Sunday, it's actually past Sunday and there is no post for Sunday. There are three main reasons for this: I am lazy, I went to a rockin' concert on Sunday night (thereby taking up all my lovely Sunday-night blog time), and I GOT A JOB!!! No, I didn't work on Sunday (man Sunday is starting to sound like a fake word...), or the day before or the day after, but my mental preparation was in full effect and it's hard to find the time to blog when concentrating so seriously.
New things in my life:
1. Well, the job. I am now a Barista at Starbucks. No joke. I got a job in coffee...I got a job at a major corporation...and I got a job where I have to sell the crap out of stuff. Had my first shift today and I think it's going to be really fun. Seriously. But even more seriously, the money should start rolling in and maybe mayybe we'll find some independence sticking to me. Oh also, people at coffee shops do weird things and talk to strange people, they overhear tales of the world and can, like, talk about them and stuff. Hopefully some epic masterpieces will come of my 9-5.
2. The second new thing is music related. For those of you that don't know (most of you do, as you are in fact my family and close friends, and therefore know I have lots of awesome, read expensive, gear) I play music. And I have gear, and I like gear, and I go a little bonkers with gear when I get in one of those deeply satisfying obsessive phases of life. Well, I got a pedal board (look it up) and a new $300 effects pedal via craigslist trading (got to love the free market future) and am STOKED. Weird noises count for around 10 points in the game of life. (Cereal? Board-game? Vague wisdom? Who knows...)
Also in this vein, I am playing my first show with my band, Larusso. I haven't played a legit show in about 4 years, so this is pretty darn exciting for me. (Let me know if you want to come...)
3. I have decided to become a hobbyist, but need someone to teach me how to solder. This is new, very very new and I will be curious to see where it goes.
4. Finally, and this is more related to new thing number too, I have not been writing very much. In the literary sense, that is. I did just post clips from a short story, but I wrote that a while ago and needed to appease my eager contingent of young teenage girls in love in my blog. What I have been doing, in terms of creativity, is writing music. Songs, lyrics, chord progressions and funkadelic riffs. But not just writing, I am recording them. Which is a new phase for me-- trying to create something concrete in order to become immortal. (Classic Gilgamesh complex.) As I notice more about myself and the world while life slinks on by, as I watch my mind and body in action over vast periods of time, I realize that I am a very creative individual, but I have trouble burning more than one creative candle. So, right now, it's music. I hope to have some quality beats pretty soon. Ghetto blasta status.
So, I think that is all for now. It is hard to think of cool lessons in writing when I am not really writing. Maybe I'll post some lyrics or something. OH! I am also about to finish the book Empire Falls by Richard Russo. Look for a review...good good good.
p.s. I did not do a p.s last time!! I am sorry, I was very forgetful. I have a reputation to uphold. Trying trying. Sleep tight me hearties.
New things in my life:
1. Well, the job. I am now a Barista at Starbucks. No joke. I got a job in coffee...I got a job at a major corporation...and I got a job where I have to sell the crap out of stuff. Had my first shift today and I think it's going to be really fun. Seriously. But even more seriously, the money should start rolling in and maybe mayybe we'll find some independence sticking to me. Oh also, people at coffee shops do weird things and talk to strange people, they overhear tales of the world and can, like, talk about them and stuff. Hopefully some epic masterpieces will come of my 9-5.
2. The second new thing is music related. For those of you that don't know (most of you do, as you are in fact my family and close friends, and therefore know I have lots of awesome, read expensive, gear) I play music. And I have gear, and I like gear, and I go a little bonkers with gear when I get in one of those deeply satisfying obsessive phases of life. Well, I got a pedal board (look it up) and a new $300 effects pedal via craigslist trading (got to love the free market future) and am STOKED. Weird noises count for around 10 points in the game of life. (Cereal? Board-game? Vague wisdom? Who knows...)
Also in this vein, I am playing my first show with my band, Larusso. I haven't played a legit show in about 4 years, so this is pretty darn exciting for me. (Let me know if you want to come...)
3. I have decided to become a hobbyist, but need someone to teach me how to solder. This is new, very very new and I will be curious to see where it goes.
4. Finally, and this is more related to new thing number too, I have not been writing very much. In the literary sense, that is. I did just post clips from a short story, but I wrote that a while ago and needed to appease my eager contingent of young teenage girls in love in my blog. What I have been doing, in terms of creativity, is writing music. Songs, lyrics, chord progressions and funkadelic riffs. But not just writing, I am recording them. Which is a new phase for me-- trying to create something concrete in order to become immortal. (Classic Gilgamesh complex.) As I notice more about myself and the world while life slinks on by, as I watch my mind and body in action over vast periods of time, I realize that I am a very creative individual, but I have trouble burning more than one creative candle. So, right now, it's music. I hope to have some quality beats pretty soon. Ghetto blasta status.
So, I think that is all for now. It is hard to think of cool lessons in writing when I am not really writing. Maybe I'll post some lyrics or something. OH! I am also about to finish the book Empire Falls by Richard Russo. Look for a review...good good good.
p.s. I did not do a p.s last time!! I am sorry, I was very forgetful. I have a reputation to uphold. Trying trying. Sleep tight me hearties.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Hear Me Roar
Blogees! I remembered about two hours ago the promise I made to myself and the internet to post at least once a week. A week has gone by, believe it or not. What did you do?
Anyway, I'm having trouble with topics and inspiration, so I've decided to post some fiction I am working on. Novel concept, right? (Novel, ha, get it??) Anyway I wrote this a while ago and edited it a little less than a while ago, and have dragged it up from the lengthy desktop folder entitled "Creative Writing." I hope you enjoy, and in case you are wondering about my awesome ending, there isn't an ending. It is ongoing, and I am literally leaving you where I have stopped. Let me know what you think!
(Also, it's untitled, so read this parenthesis as a title...)
My jeans are soaked to my thighs, this damn storm, let me tell you. In the early part of the century, back when men wore thick coats and bowler hats, long black garb that cloaked them in the color of death, real men, you might say, well in that part of the history of the world I survived a storm ten times this size, and my jeans, well...no, not my jeans because real men did not wear jeans back then, my pants, they were soaked, right to my thighs.
This was in the big city on the gold coast; San Francisco. It roared, oh boy did it. All curved cabs and ladies wearing gloves; even in the rain (torrential this time of year) they smoked cigarettes, inhaled it like they drank tobacco for breakfast. Top that off with vodka and orange juice, what you have there is one American way to start a day. This was pre Peace, pre Love, pre Haight and that damned Ashburry, two hooligans of grandeur proportions. Not to confuse the reader, I fell head-first through a cloud of acid rain just like the rest of you, but it was hard with this stiff hip, and all those boys wanted to do was run run run.
The city bumped and jived, a cesspool of sin and luxury, but fun, mind you. On this night, of the storm, that is, I was enjoying a whisky dry in a cozy little speakeasy. Easy jazz with chords of velvet; brass and stand-up, lover’s laments that made you want to curl up on Saturday and write lust letters to people you’ve never known. I could hear the wind beating drops against my sanctuary, my Mecca (pre-world knowledge of Mecca of course). There is nothing but the sound of a lightly brushed cymbal; a woman turning over in her sleep; the sky letting a feather fall silently. And that pianist! Such a virtuosity in his limbs, a lilt to his back. I remember his eyes closing as he played. All that, with those dim rouge lights, the small-talk of lovers, war and money (quality topics in any age I’ve found) on the tips of tongues. Lulled me, they did.
Anyway, that damned storm was so loud it clashed up against the sound of this aural phenomena, my song of songs, and drove me to a great fury.
I quickly became disgruntled, my inner peace shaken, and, anyway, my cup was empty. I nodded to the tender and he waved me off, looking neither distracted nor interested. I had been there some time, come to think of it, and when I stood the blood rushed to my head, making me waggle as I cleared a path towards the exit. Fur coats and lengthy umbrellas were crammed into the corner as people came in, and I grabbed my own parachute as I exited.
The wind hit me in the face, speckled me with drops of “light precipitation” as the news prints had read. Bullshit. These drops slicked my hair back for me, had me pumping the shaft of that umbrella like a flapper in the red-light. I routinely tried to light a cigarette, cursed when the wind blew it out, and decided to walk back to my apartment, just a few blocks towards the Bay.
Now, in 1922, a man walking down the street with a curve to his path was highly suspicious. The Noble Experiment was in effect, and us lab rats ran around licking the ethanol off every surface we could find. I was just shy of military legality (something everyone should aim for) and had been hammered well into the morning every night that month. All this while Johnny Law walked around this city like the damn gestapo (anachronistic, I know, but I was ready and able, not willing mind you, for that second attempt at world peace, and they were like the damn gestapo). Upending coffee mugs and the like. Then they had the audacity to “retain” what we were drinking and imbibe it themselves. The Station was rowdier than any bar in the city night after night.
Anyway, I'm having trouble with topics and inspiration, so I've decided to post some fiction I am working on. Novel concept, right? (Novel, ha, get it??) Anyway I wrote this a while ago and edited it a little less than a while ago, and have dragged it up from the lengthy desktop folder entitled "Creative Writing." I hope you enjoy, and in case you are wondering about my awesome ending, there isn't an ending. It is ongoing, and I am literally leaving you where I have stopped. Let me know what you think!
(Also, it's untitled, so read this parenthesis as a title...)
My jeans are soaked to my thighs, this damn storm, let me tell you. In the early part of the century, back when men wore thick coats and bowler hats, long black garb that cloaked them in the color of death, real men, you might say, well in that part of the history of the world I survived a storm ten times this size, and my jeans, well...no, not my jeans because real men did not wear jeans back then, my pants, they were soaked, right to my thighs.
This was in the big city on the gold coast; San Francisco. It roared, oh boy did it. All curved cabs and ladies wearing gloves; even in the rain (torrential this time of year) they smoked cigarettes, inhaled it like they drank tobacco for breakfast. Top that off with vodka and orange juice, what you have there is one American way to start a day. This was pre Peace, pre Love, pre Haight and that damned Ashburry, two hooligans of grandeur proportions. Not to confuse the reader, I fell head-first through a cloud of acid rain just like the rest of you, but it was hard with this stiff hip, and all those boys wanted to do was run run run.
The city bumped and jived, a cesspool of sin and luxury, but fun, mind you. On this night, of the storm, that is, I was enjoying a whisky dry in a cozy little speakeasy. Easy jazz with chords of velvet; brass and stand-up, lover’s laments that made you want to curl up on Saturday and write lust letters to people you’ve never known. I could hear the wind beating drops against my sanctuary, my Mecca (pre-world knowledge of Mecca of course). There is nothing but the sound of a lightly brushed cymbal; a woman turning over in her sleep; the sky letting a feather fall silently. And that pianist! Such a virtuosity in his limbs, a lilt to his back. I remember his eyes closing as he played. All that, with those dim rouge lights, the small-talk of lovers, war and money (quality topics in any age I’ve found) on the tips of tongues. Lulled me, they did.
Anyway, that damned storm was so loud it clashed up against the sound of this aural phenomena, my song of songs, and drove me to a great fury.
I quickly became disgruntled, my inner peace shaken, and, anyway, my cup was empty. I nodded to the tender and he waved me off, looking neither distracted nor interested. I had been there some time, come to think of it, and when I stood the blood rushed to my head, making me waggle as I cleared a path towards the exit. Fur coats and lengthy umbrellas were crammed into the corner as people came in, and I grabbed my own parachute as I exited.
The wind hit me in the face, speckled me with drops of “light precipitation” as the news prints had read. Bullshit. These drops slicked my hair back for me, had me pumping the shaft of that umbrella like a flapper in the red-light. I routinely tried to light a cigarette, cursed when the wind blew it out, and decided to walk back to my apartment, just a few blocks towards the Bay.
Now, in 1922, a man walking down the street with a curve to his path was highly suspicious. The Noble Experiment was in effect, and us lab rats ran around licking the ethanol off every surface we could find. I was just shy of military legality (something everyone should aim for) and had been hammered well into the morning every night that month. All this while Johnny Law walked around this city like the damn gestapo (anachronistic, I know, but I was ready and able, not willing mind you, for that second attempt at world peace, and they were like the damn gestapo). Upending coffee mugs and the like. Then they had the audacity to “retain” what we were drinking and imbibe it themselves. The Station was rowdier than any bar in the city night after night.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday Funday
My dear people, this weekend has been one of serious and intense laziness. But before I go into the highly interesting details of all that: the food I ate today.
Firstly, half of a homemade chocolate-chip cookie. Excellent and cakey. Second, much later in the day and comprising of both my breakfast and lunch, an onion bagel with regular spread cream cheese and half an avocado. Pretty freaking delicious. Thirdly, a dinner of Farfalle pasta, grilled chicken, and pesto. All combined and lathered with healthy amounts of olive oil. Finger licking good. (Which is odd because we didn't eat it with our hands...)
Just trying to live up to my previous post.
So a week has gone by and I've thought of precisely one good topic to blog about, which I'm not actually going to do here. That idea was Oprah--her life, her legacy, her inexplicable ego and buildup of final shows, and the giant hole she is going to bury all her money in. I'll do that soon, after some extensive Wikipedia research.
For now, I think I am going to ease right back into this. I got a pretty radical sunburn on Friday and have since then commenced the lazing about. I am waiting to hear back from a job, and have taken the hopefully pleasant news of no more free time to heart, utilizing the last of my aimless hours watching Lost and strumming my acoustic. Now, don't get me wrong, this is not entirely different from what I have been doing all week, but somehow, in the sight of a possible new life, it seems all the more sacred and important now.
I will say this about Lost. Just finished it. The whole thing. And man am I a sucker. Loved it, hated it, whatever you feel about the legacy of Lost, you have to admit it was ballsy. To cover such universal and contemplative topics so openly, with the intention of subliminally inching the masses of America towards true realization of the meaning of existence, is quite something. Most may have missed these obvious motifs: good versus evil at the core does not work because human beings have free will; we all really need to let go; a fat man stranded on an island can retain his weight if motivated to do so; and we all have a choice.
Now, I realize I'm about a year off from all the hype that this show ended with. Oh well.
This is all for now, I am a little lost myself. Slowly heating up the fog that surrounds.
p.s. I have to wear glasses at night to read the computer screen these days. Old man come and take me away.
Firstly, half of a homemade chocolate-chip cookie. Excellent and cakey. Second, much later in the day and comprising of both my breakfast and lunch, an onion bagel with regular spread cream cheese and half an avocado. Pretty freaking delicious. Thirdly, a dinner of Farfalle pasta, grilled chicken, and pesto. All combined and lathered with healthy amounts of olive oil. Finger licking good. (Which is odd because we didn't eat it with our hands...)
Just trying to live up to my previous post.
So a week has gone by and I've thought of precisely one good topic to blog about, which I'm not actually going to do here. That idea was Oprah--her life, her legacy, her inexplicable ego and buildup of final shows, and the giant hole she is going to bury all her money in. I'll do that soon, after some extensive Wikipedia research.
For now, I think I am going to ease right back into this. I got a pretty radical sunburn on Friday and have since then commenced the lazing about. I am waiting to hear back from a job, and have taken the hopefully pleasant news of no more free time to heart, utilizing the last of my aimless hours watching Lost and strumming my acoustic. Now, don't get me wrong, this is not entirely different from what I have been doing all week, but somehow, in the sight of a possible new life, it seems all the more sacred and important now.
I will say this about Lost. Just finished it. The whole thing. And man am I a sucker. Loved it, hated it, whatever you feel about the legacy of Lost, you have to admit it was ballsy. To cover such universal and contemplative topics so openly, with the intention of subliminally inching the masses of America towards true realization of the meaning of existence, is quite something. Most may have missed these obvious motifs: good versus evil at the core does not work because human beings have free will; we all really need to let go; a fat man stranded on an island can retain his weight if motivated to do so; and we all have a choice.
Now, I realize I'm about a year off from all the hype that this show ended with. Oh well.
This is all for now, I am a little lost myself. Slowly heating up the fog that surrounds.
p.s. I have to wear glasses at night to read the computer screen these days. Old man come and take me away.
Monday, May 23, 2011
New Innovations
So, people, in continuing my blog-nation I have decided to amp it up just a little bit. I know I just vowed to beat the semi-dead horse back to life, but these changes are pertinent and will both of us happy. My previous post entitled "Innovations" contained both new ideas and a long, winding-road post about connectivity (illustrating one of those new ideas). It was boring, and a long time ago, a lot like George Bush's presidency. Zing. This will be snappy and hilarious.
Entroducing (yes that's a DJShadow reference) my New Innovations!
(NOTE: I actually wrote this some time ago, so some things are really new, while other things are more like, hey, brosef, check this out if you haven't...ok?)
--Firstly, book reviews. (Like this.) I do a lot of reading, and I think it is high time I wrote reviews. This helps me and you: it helps me because I will have a catalogue of book reviews in case some awesome company wants to hire me for just that; it helps you because, well, if you like my style and my taste, maybe you'll like the books I read too. Here's the catch: most people review books from a reader's standpoint, or for the mass populace; I am going to review it from a writer's standpoint, first and foremost. Other things will go in there, but these reviews will detail the style of writing, the prose and punctuation (not really but the alliteration is solid)- character theme plot and transitions. (You have examples in the two I have up. More to come.) Anyway, book reviews!! yay. (still yay.)
--Secondly, I am starting a quote of the day. This will be on my page somewhere when I can figure out how to have it come up alongside my main post (anyone want to help me with this?). Hopefully this will act quite like small pieces of chocolate or hard candy, whichever you prefer, and will either lift your day along or sympathize with the drag that life can be. Look for these quotes, they will be better than your fortune cookie formula, I promise. (Now I have tried for a couple weeks to figure this out, but seriously does anyone know how to do this? A bit of text alongside my latest post that can be changed and yet archived? Lemme know.)
Example quote:
"Since when did forgiveness become a better quality than loyalty."- Mad Men
--Thirdly, I am, in the coming days or weeks, going to start cataloguing my posts under different sub-headings. This will help newcomers find topics that are more interesting to themselves, as well as allow me to see what I write about more often. For instance, one category will be Book Reviews.
--Fourthly, I have updated the look of this blog. The text is now white and in a different font (for your reading pleasure). The title simply reads Unpublished, as I have actually stopped my longstanding contract as a construction overseer and am now just an unpublished writer. I would like to ad a by-line, a mini-what-is-the-what-is-this-blog-about, but can't seem to get it to line up right. Maybe a photoshop is in order. Help on that, too? Thanks? Thanks.
--Fifthly, I added a feature, much like that of my "p.s." in which all italicized parentheses, and the contents therein, unless otherwise specified, are editor's notes. This is to make sure I voice my edits, but also to hopefully greatly increase the humor and depth that this blog is so well known for.
--Sixthly (a word, for sure), there is no sixthly. These are all my additions. If you can think of anything you'd like to see, please call 1-800-HARGENSHNARGEN and a volunteer answering a phone I set up in Deleware will be with you. But really, if you think of things you'd like me to do (look at these for examples) just leave a comment. Keep in mind this is about writing, life, and the pursuit of inspiration.
Much love.
p.s. I'm really into 30 Rock at the moment. For like, the fourth time. Word.
Entroducing (yes that's a DJShadow reference) my New Innovations!
(NOTE: I actually wrote this some time ago, so some things are really new, while other things are more like, hey, brosef, check this out if you haven't...ok?)
--Firstly, book reviews. (Like this.) I do a lot of reading, and I think it is high time I wrote reviews. This helps me and you: it helps me because I will have a catalogue of book reviews in case some awesome company wants to hire me for just that; it helps you because, well, if you like my style and my taste, maybe you'll like the books I read too. Here's the catch: most people review books from a reader's standpoint, or for the mass populace; I am going to review it from a writer's standpoint, first and foremost. Other things will go in there, but these reviews will detail the style of writing, the prose and punctuation (not really but the alliteration is solid)- character theme plot and transitions. (You have examples in the two I have up. More to come.) Anyway, book reviews!! yay. (still yay.)
--Secondly, I am starting a quote of the day. This will be on my page somewhere when I can figure out how to have it come up alongside my main post (anyone want to help me with this?). Hopefully this will act quite like small pieces of chocolate or hard candy, whichever you prefer, and will either lift your day along or sympathize with the drag that life can be. Look for these quotes, they will be better than your fortune cookie formula, I promise. (Now I have tried for a couple weeks to figure this out, but seriously does anyone know how to do this? A bit of text alongside my latest post that can be changed and yet archived? Lemme know.)
Example quote:
"Since when did forgiveness become a better quality than loyalty."- Mad Men
--Thirdly, I am, in the coming days or weeks, going to start cataloguing my posts under different sub-headings. This will help newcomers find topics that are more interesting to themselves, as well as allow me to see what I write about more often. For instance, one category will be Book Reviews.
--Fourthly, I have updated the look of this blog. The text is now white and in a different font (for your reading pleasure). The title simply reads Unpublished, as I have actually stopped my longstanding contract as a construction overseer and am now just an unpublished writer. I would like to ad a by-line, a mini-what-is-the-what-is-this-blog-about, but can't seem to get it to line up right. Maybe a photoshop is in order. Help on that, too? Thanks? Thanks.
--Fifthly, I added a feature, much like that of my "p.s." in which all italicized parentheses, and the contents therein, unless otherwise specified, are editor's notes. This is to make sure I voice my edits, but also to hopefully greatly increase the humor and depth that this blog is so well known for.
--Sixthly (a word, for sure), there is no sixthly. These are all my additions. If you can think of anything you'd like to see, please call 1-800-HARGENSHNARGEN and a volunteer answering a phone I set up in Deleware will be with you. But really, if you think of things you'd like me to do (look at these for examples) just leave a comment. Keep in mind this is about writing, life, and the pursuit of inspiration.
Much love.
p.s. I'm really into 30 Rock at the moment. For like, the fourth time. Word.
The Times
So, awesome blogees, this is the first post of mine in a little over a month. I dropped out for a bit. Never did that in college...thought I'd give it a try while enrolled in blog-school. No, but really, I just haven't felt the urge to write. Part of this assignment was to train myself to write even when I don't feel the urge, so I guess I failed a bit on that account. More than a bit (Italics will now be code for my witty editing process), I failed hardcore. WRITE DAMNIT!
But, I am here to blog (is it a verb? To blog? To blaave?) that this is not over. My girlfriend said to me today or yesterday (the times, they blur so pearly pink these days), "you know, you are just about over the line." Meaning, unlike Johnny Cash who famously tried to walk the line, and who infamously fell on his ass (actually I don't remember the end of that movie...is he ok?), I am on the verge of no more blog. But before such a large scale (yes the internet will reel with loss) decision can be made, I wanted to test the waters again.
My original goal was about four posts a month, at minimum, once a week, with a real preference of twice a week. I was branching out with book reviews, comments on the times and the like, and just got, well, lazy. It's a serious flaw.
So I wanted to write and say that I am doing the once a week thing. I'll fret and worry and put it off so most likely there will be a new post every Sunday. (Which brings up the interesting point of how one gauges the beginning and end of a week with no work or schedule in sight) Hopefully it will be like school and I'll bust out gnarly epic posts with multiple interlocking thesi (plural words that end in i make my day!) and at least ten academic resources. Worst case scenario: you'll get a play by play of the foods I eat on Sundays. I'm looking forward to it. Are you?
p.s. I have had numerous complaints (which is really good because it means I have numerous readers) that the color scheme on this website will in fact make you legally blind. I am changing it. Peer pressure sucks. I like black on green!
But, I am here to blog (is it a verb? To blog? To blaave?) that this is not over. My girlfriend said to me today or yesterday (the times, they blur so pearly pink these days), "you know, you are just about over the line." Meaning, unlike Johnny Cash who famously tried to walk the line, and who infamously fell on his ass (actually I don't remember the end of that movie...is he ok?), I am on the verge of no more blog. But before such a large scale (yes the internet will reel with loss) decision can be made, I wanted to test the waters again.
My original goal was about four posts a month, at minimum, once a week, with a real preference of twice a week. I was branching out with book reviews, comments on the times and the like, and just got, well, lazy. It's a serious flaw.
So I wanted to write and say that I am doing the once a week thing. I'll fret and worry and put it off so most likely there will be a new post every Sunday. (Which brings up the interesting point of how one gauges the beginning and end of a week with no work or schedule in sight) Hopefully it will be like school and I'll bust out gnarly epic posts with multiple interlocking thesi (plural words that end in i make my day!) and at least ten academic resources. Worst case scenario: you'll get a play by play of the foods I eat on Sundays. I'm looking forward to it. Are you?
p.s. I have had numerous complaints (which is really good because it means I have numerous readers) that the color scheme on this website will in fact make you legally blind. I am changing it. Peer pressure sucks. I like black on green!
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