Set it Off

Welcome to my new blog. My old blog became worn out, a once-amusing device that had become an annoyance, like an old bowling shoe; or a hula-hoop frayed from five years of frenetic bullshiting. Every time I'd take that shit out for a spin, I'd be left feeling bruised and empty. Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but truth be told, I got kind of sick of Cosmopolitan Tang. I couldn't start a new blog without giving it a shout-out, though, after five years posting there. I posted with friends on that site, but I decided it was time to branch off and make my own bloggy way.

I couldn't think of a better title for this site, so I'll change it when I do. Mostly I just wanted to have a place to create blog entries to later import to a better site when I get around to registering a domain name.

About me: I'm twenty-three years old, 24 in August (holy shit.) Outside of BlogLand, I write fiction, mostly, and sometimes essays. I'm working on a very strange novel, which I guess you would describe as comic fiction. I've been writing what I'd call "serious attempts" at short stories since I was fourteen or so, and I have a storied history of delivering absurd narratives into tape recorders as a child. When I was in the third grade, I wrote a "novel" that I insisted upon reading aloud to my classmates. It was five chapters long. One of the chapters was five or six sentences long, the other four were either one or two. The story was about a robot detective and a dog with an implant allowing it to speak English who had been assigned by robotic higher-ups to assist in "sniffing out" evidence. The dog was able to find the stolen "robo-jewels," hidden, of all places, in vat of cockroach poison. I believe the dog's name was McGruff. That's how stuff happens in the future, man.

I just got a BA in English and I'm now going balls to the wall at an MFA. Meaning, I applied to a hell of a lot of programs, and I'm spending a lot of my time writing while I wait to hear something. I figured going back to "blogging" (I never could bring myself to like that word) would help -- an outlet to let my fingers keep moving, keep the rhythm going, when I'm too sick of the characters in my novel to deal with them any more. Trust me, they're really easy to get sick of. I really want the next thing I write to be a celebration of humanity rather than a condemnation of it, but the thing I'm working on now has pretty dark undertones, at least to me.

See, this is the part I don't like about blogging -- the tendency to ramble on and on about oneself. I hope to minimize that kind of stuff on this blog and try to make posts that will be entertaining. I will probably post some short fiction here (or possibly somewhere else, on this site I'm thinking about registering), but only stuff I know will be amusing to others. (Trust me, I wouldn't want anyone to be forced to wade through 90% of the crap I have saved on my hard drive that I've written.)

I'll probably just also do the general bloggage -- (how many variations on that "verb" exist. anyway?!) -- writing about funny stuff that happens in our apartment (and living with a fellow connoisseur of the absurd, Andrew Hill, we have our share of funny conversations/situations).. uh... bowling scores?... and... music reviews? Oh, and book reviews, too, maybe. Sorry, I'm just kind of making this up as I go along, hope that's not a problem for anyone.

I have been reading Emma Who Saved My Life by Wilton Barnhardt, the guy that gave the faculty address at my graduation. Makes me wish I had taken a class with him at NCSU, because the way the book is written is very similar to the way I try to write.