What’s interesting about reading blogs is the bleeding hearts that tend to find their way to the page. You read all kinds of stuff and it makes you wonder about the person. A lot of the time that stuff is exaggerated, as I see it, it’s just the persona of the blog. Yes, blogs, like poems, stories and what not develop personas. That’s why you get writers hamming it up online because they can disguise themselves in the writing, getting overtaken by the persona.
From the timing of an event that takes place after an argument, you can easily discern if that event revolves around you. What a pain, I say, to be aware of such things. You then know that others are talking about you. You didn’t argue out of anger, you argued a point out of necessity, really so others don’t drop the ball. Sticky fingers.
“…there’s something about Greek that seems to go deeper into words than any modern language. So that when you’re reading it, you’re down in the roots of where words work, whereas in English we’re at the top of the tree, in the branches, bouncing around. It was stunning to me, a revelation. And it continues to be stunning, continues to be like a harbor always welcoming. Strange, but welcoming,”
said Anne Carson, a poet. I think that’s wise. In recent years, I’ve become some what infatuated with the origins of root words: is ‘un’ in unaffected from Ancient Greek, Latin, Middle English? I would look up the origins of prefixes and suffixes and discover things, ways to use words, to have fun with them, insight.
If you commit to something out of nostalgia and then later begin to regret it, when exactly is the right time to cut loose from the oncoming dread? Would attending the gathering become artificial? Would it be of value if your mind spends most of its time wandering away from the it when you’re there? Do you wish you were naked rather than clothed?