So I'm attempting this new thing called blogging professionally, which, contrary to my old friends xanga and livejournal, will contain somewhat fewer obscenities, more coherent (I can only hope) rants, and probably more pretentiousness.
Which I will half-heartedly attempt to avoid.
Also, I'm trying out this whole using-your-name-as-user-ID thing, which seems strangely like branding. -Hello world, I am Julia Alekseyeva. -Hello world, I am the indubitable Harold Bloom. -I am Richard Rodriguez.
And so on and so forth.
Speaking of Richard Rodriguez, there was an amazing article by him in the January Harper's, which I read today, because as always I am 6 months behind in my magazine subscriptions:
I forgot how much I loved his writing style, something between news journalism and stream-of-thought diary entries.
"There is no sentimentality to this encounter. Sentimentality is an expenditure of moisture. The Bedouin's beseeching eyes are dry; they are the practice of centuries. He sits down a short distance away from us while we contemplate the monastery. He looks into the distance, and, as he does so, he becomes the desert."
Also in the same Harper's is one of my new favorite poems. I envy this woman's talent more than anything right now. There's a simplicity here that I can't quite emulate no matter how hard I try:
I Met a Seducer
by Grace Paley
One day a seducer met a seducer
now said one what do we do
fly into each other's arms said
the other ugh said one they turned
stood back to back one
looked over one's shoulder smiled
shyly other turned seconds
too late made a lovelier
shy smile oh my dear said other
my own dear said one