Self, publishing.

Indeed it would be possible, with careful scouring of the Internet, to reconstruct my life from blogs. There was a Myspace, then a Xanga, then a Livejournal (or two, I’ve lost track), notes on Facebook, the emails I sent the entire University of Minnesota Morris campus begging for rides home to Minneapolis – but these were never, dear Internet, intended to be serious.

The fact is, I never thought the Internet would become what it is today: a spinning vortex of rage-commentary in which one is nevertheless chided to represent oneself in a flattering manner. I never thought I would be a professional writer, either. I wonder what else should probably never happen, and will?

So: welcome to my Web site. Don’t stray too far away; its format is minimalist, its commentary sparse, and gentle reader, the Internet gets weird out there, don’t you know. Thanks for listening.



2 responses to “Self, publishing.”

  1. Don’t forget That one was as serious as it gets.

    1. Truth. Although I’ve spent my entire writing life trying to forget, that is one account that will never, ever stop haunting me.

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