arm-in-arm we are the harmless sociopaths

arm-in-arm with all the harmless sociopaths

oh no

essays huh

more and more i have no idea what to talk about on here. i will talk about how i'm not writing much now. haven't written a new story since sometime this late summer early fall. it might be the time where my brain is getting a bunch of stuff into it so that it may spit all the stuff it has gotten out. i'm thinking of making a book of essays. i'm thinking about writing a new essay about "indie" lit, online stories, versus print. i just became an assistant editor at juked. i really love juked so am super happy grateful honored to be a part of it. i think this is the place to say though, that while i love juked, i'm not necessarily involved or care to be involved in the indie lit scene. in the same way, i don't care to be involved in the mainstream lit scene. in fact, i'm pretty sure, more and more, everingly, that i don't want to be in any scene. i'm glad to be editing and want to help juked get some really good stories. other than that, i sort of want to dance on the weekend, run far and hard, write stories, play ping pong, tennis, hike with the dog, teach a class about fiction, eat, water, trees, shifting clouds, cat hair everywhere, our missing cat, our cat who has been missing a week now, the one with the laser eyes a couple posts back, looking for that cat, hounding the neighborhood streets, that's pretty much it. but i don't care to be a proponent of indie lit. seems like other people have that covered. this is all for myself, so i can slipped into juked comfortably with none of my codes about myself compromised.

here are the individual titles of the essays:

Flannery O'Connor's Christian Horror: The Horror of the Self

Joyce's Language of History

"Each Confirms a Prison"

Breaking Up Gass and Gardner: An Introduction to the Great Fiction War

all these written. here are ideas for ones:

The Minimalists are So Hard to See

This South, That South (on the two popular modes of representing the "south" in writing; one coming from a Faulknerian tradition, the other a bit more "modern", not necessarily better)

Authentic, Experimental Indie Lit: We Are So Right, Right?

the idea would be to start in the way back, then move forward through time. probably won't actually do this though. just been thinking of it too much. i'm gone gone.

stole a dead man's boat and returned it, so borrowed

here is the boat, already rowed across the lake. we found it on the opposite side at a dead man's house. it was heavy, hard to get down to shore, but so worth it. then, on the way back across the lake, to get home, storm whipped up. took us over an hour, too windy, waves too big. ended up about a mile from our docking place, and had to climb a rock wall and then hike back. tied the boat to a tree and came back the next day to return it to the dead man.


emily at waterfall. this was our goal with the boat, a fun little hike to get there too.

me in waterfall, very very cold waterfall. i don't know what i'm doing. this was a good day, until the storm and crossing the lake again. one paddle is not enough.

laser-eye-cat

graded over eighty papers. was close to becoming mind-slung and robot-mucked. no idea how i graded them. no idea why, except a check in the box on my screen telling me it's money. oh man, i'm tired of money. going to a lake this week. two days off school, four days in the woods. the woods make one more peaceful, noble, spiritual, and human. this is all a lie. i wonder where this lie slipped itself in from. i feel like james fenimore cooper had a lot to do with it. is it even reasonable to say james fenimore cooper anymore?

need to find a way to get into newness. some story is stuck inside me, but i don't know what it is or how to pull it out. distractions, teaching comp, having to grade, all these things don't allow for the mind to listen to other things. wanting to make something new, don't know what or how. i have the phrase "new york city? new york city!" stuck in my ears.