We spent a few hours last night at the Hitching Post, a dive bar on Troost near 55th, talking with artists, novelists, poets, filmmakers, students, and fellow academics. I revealed to a few people that I keep a blog, and suddenly they want the address.
Weez says my earlier post leaves her wanting more words. Why do I blog? Why do you read my blog? Look at the keywords below my name at the top of the page: literature, technology, culture, education, academia. Do I deliver on that promise? I feel like I don’t.
If all I do is tell you details about my life, I start to feel pretty selfish. Why should you care about my life? Some of you knew me before I started blogging. Some of you have met me since I started blogging. Some of you (most of you?) only know me through my blog. I can’t tell you everything. I usually leave the bad stuff out, so you’re not getting the whole story. Shouldn’t that frustrate you?
For a variety of reasons, my life has been turned upside down since about three days before September 11, 2001. But people I work with read this blog, and my family might one day stumble across it, and so I don’t reveal everything here. In this way, perhaps, I’m cheating you.