Something Old, Something New
Hi again.
Remember me?
Probably not, but that's okay. Abhorrently pretentious postmodern sentiment aside, I hardly remember myself these days too.
Part of it, as you may recall, has to do with that massive list of books I've been trying to read this summer, a project that has been going well if not stalling out a bit as of late. I have, though, accomplished two short-term goals in my reading project: firstly, that I've finished 20 of the books -- which, as far as I can figure, puts me almost halfway through what I would have reasonably expected to have read this summer -- and secondly, that I've completed 100 books from the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. If nothing else, all this makes me feel like I've accomplished something academic and noteworthy -- two words that may or may not be mutually exclusive, I'm beginning to think.
Granted, that means substantial portions of my summer have been spent indoors, buried behind stacks of paper. There are, admittedly, worse ways to spend one's time -- particularly during our current streak of oppressively muggy days that inspire sweat immediately upon exposure, sweat that frequently ends up in the most inconvenient (read: stankiest) places possible. Kind of like the wonderful (read: hellish) experience I had moving all the shit out of my old apartment and into my new one this past, glorious (read: ungodly) weekend. I swear, I've never sweat so much in one instance in my entire life -- which is particularly shocking since, as a fat guy, any more exertion than what is needed to propel a jelly doughnut from one's hand to one's mouth is usually enough to send the sweat glands into a rather excitable state.
But I digress (and, furthermore, I don't feel the need to detail any more minutely the grossness of my person during said endeavor). The fact of the matter is that I've been reading a lot, and one of the discoveries I've made is that I really love reading -- much more, in fact, than I enjoy writing about what I read. This may account for, among other things, my general malaise at paper-writing and my reluctance to be able to sit right down and write a book review immediately after finishing a text, like I used to. (There's more to say about this in another post, I promise.)
However, as my last parenthetical has alluded to, -- and damn right I used that as a noun, bitches -- I've been equally delinquent at updating this blog. And after thinking it through a little bit, I've realized that the reason is that I've developed, over the course of seventy posts, a particular style and voice for this blog that I feel my readers, few though they may be, have come to expect. I write at considerable length, try to use vocabulary that is erudite if not bordering on grandiloquent (case in point), and though there is the occasional dry humor (which, occasionally, is funny), I tend to discuss more serious, more abstract, and more thoughtful (read: more trite) topics herein. Which becomes a major bummer when some really funny shit goes down and I want to write something about it.
Thinking all this through, I've hit upon what I feel is a pretty good solution. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the official premiere of...
MY NEW BLOG!
Don't worry. A Rapturous Verbatim is not going anywhere. (Please stop booing.) It will still be here to offer the same sort of incisive social commentary (read: self-inflated bullshit) that it's offered for over two years now. It will, however, be supplemented by another blog, which will contain briefer posts about lighter fare. I consider it more of a forum for random, noteworthy observations, outright humor, and perhaps a bit more bawdiness. Moreover, it offers me a chance to explore a new voice and see how I can operate within it -- since I've mentioned in the past how frustrated I've been with the tendency for my writing to be restricted by my academic tendencies.
The new adventure, A Tournament of Lies, can be found, conveniently enough, at http://atournamentoflies.blogspot.com. (P.S. 10 points to Amanda for identifying the source of this title reference.) I'll also be posting a link on the side of this blog that will take you there, in the event you don't want to update your bookmarks. (And, yes, AToL will have a link back to ARV, in case you embrace change a little too emphatically.)
As A Tournament of Lies develops, you'll find it to be lighter, funnier, and probably updated more frequently, as the whole idea is to not have to ruminate on an issue long enough to flesh out an entry of substantial length. It will be more off-the-cuff, and hopefully more current, than this blog has become because of how this project developed.
In essence, though, two blogs, though hardly an apt way to identify my persona and character, should give you a stronger idea of where I'm coming from, what inspires me, and how this twisted, fucked-up head of mine likes to operate. I hope you'll enjoy it.
Remember me?
Probably not, but that's okay. Abhorrently pretentious postmodern sentiment aside, I hardly remember myself these days too.
Part of it, as you may recall, has to do with that massive list of books I've been trying to read this summer, a project that has been going well if not stalling out a bit as of late. I have, though, accomplished two short-term goals in my reading project: firstly, that I've finished 20 of the books -- which, as far as I can figure, puts me almost halfway through what I would have reasonably expected to have read this summer -- and secondly, that I've completed 100 books from the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. If nothing else, all this makes me feel like I've accomplished something academic and noteworthy -- two words that may or may not be mutually exclusive, I'm beginning to think.
Granted, that means substantial portions of my summer have been spent indoors, buried behind stacks of paper. There are, admittedly, worse ways to spend one's time -- particularly during our current streak of oppressively muggy days that inspire sweat immediately upon exposure, sweat that frequently ends up in the most inconvenient (read: stankiest) places possible. Kind of like the wonderful (read: hellish) experience I had moving all the shit out of my old apartment and into my new one this past, glorious (read: ungodly) weekend. I swear, I've never sweat so much in one instance in my entire life -- which is particularly shocking since, as a fat guy, any more exertion than what is needed to propel a jelly doughnut from one's hand to one's mouth is usually enough to send the sweat glands into a rather excitable state.
But I digress (and, furthermore, I don't feel the need to detail any more minutely the grossness of my person during said endeavor). The fact of the matter is that I've been reading a lot, and one of the discoveries I've made is that I really love reading -- much more, in fact, than I enjoy writing about what I read. This may account for, among other things, my general malaise at paper-writing and my reluctance to be able to sit right down and write a book review immediately after finishing a text, like I used to. (There's more to say about this in another post, I promise.)
However, as my last parenthetical has alluded to, -- and damn right I used that as a noun, bitches -- I've been equally delinquent at updating this blog. And after thinking it through a little bit, I've realized that the reason is that I've developed, over the course of seventy posts, a particular style and voice for this blog that I feel my readers, few though they may be, have come to expect. I write at considerable length, try to use vocabulary that is erudite if not bordering on grandiloquent (case in point), and though there is the occasional dry humor (which, occasionally, is funny), I tend to discuss more serious, more abstract, and more thoughtful (read: more trite) topics herein. Which becomes a major bummer when some really funny shit goes down and I want to write something about it.
Thinking all this through, I've hit upon what I feel is a pretty good solution. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the official premiere of...
MY NEW BLOG!
Don't worry. A Rapturous Verbatim is not going anywhere. (Please stop booing.) It will still be here to offer the same sort of incisive social commentary (read: self-inflated bullshit) that it's offered for over two years now. It will, however, be supplemented by another blog, which will contain briefer posts about lighter fare. I consider it more of a forum for random, noteworthy observations, outright humor, and perhaps a bit more bawdiness. Moreover, it offers me a chance to explore a new voice and see how I can operate within it -- since I've mentioned in the past how frustrated I've been with the tendency for my writing to be restricted by my academic tendencies.
The new adventure, A Tournament of Lies, can be found, conveniently enough, at http://atournamentoflies.blogspot.com. (P.S. 10 points to Amanda for identifying the source of this title reference.) I'll also be posting a link on the side of this blog that will take you there, in the event you don't want to update your bookmarks. (And, yes, AToL will have a link back to ARV, in case you embrace change a little too emphatically.)
As A Tournament of Lies develops, you'll find it to be lighter, funnier, and probably updated more frequently, as the whole idea is to not have to ruminate on an issue long enough to flesh out an entry of substantial length. It will be more off-the-cuff, and hopefully more current, than this blog has become because of how this project developed.
In essence, though, two blogs, though hardly an apt way to identify my persona and character, should give you a stronger idea of where I'm coming from, what inspires me, and how this twisted, fucked-up head of mine likes to operate. I hope you'll enjoy it.
posted by Dave at 7/21/2008 04:22:00 PM
38 comments
