writing to survive
. . . only the retelling counts

Rethink

The thing I have to give up for at least two weeks for my addictions class, have to give up and then write about? I’ve chosen blogging, with all its attendant obsessions (though I’ll still be visiting the blogs I read). The time has long been nigh for a change. I need to allow myself some empty, nonpublic space in which to write and be, as well as think more about how blogging fulfills (or doesn’t) my need to be seen. I’ve long thought of this place as a place to unburden, but I no longer have the same burdens. Blogging has often been my form of seduction. I no longer know whom I wish to seduce or if I wish to seduce at all.

I have not ravaged and burned my work of the last five years (and deselecting posts one by one was quite a walk down memory lane, some of it good, some of it best read with a feeling of relief that I’ve moved on). Although my entire output isn’t visible here at the moment, every post is still on the server and accessible. At some point, it may return to a public place, perhaps in reduced form.

If you wish to reach me, I’m easy to find.

Image taken from BART, by me.
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