Oh this old thing

I am wildly disinterested in writing about poetry on a blog these days.

I am mostly disinterested in reading about poetry on blogs these days. But old habits die hard.

I am mildly interested that many of the blogs about poetry that I used to read avidly have mostly stopped writing about poetry and started posting, oh, youtube clips, or hermetic phrases, or pictures of cats. Cats are cute, though. We have said what we were going to say, and we are tired of this conversation; we are poets, and are tired of this form, but haven't yet worked up a new one.

I am rather interested in reconsidering this space, this conblogoration, and whether it can once again be used as an impetus for social connections, or whether it is best as an archive of ideas and thoughts, and an occasional notice about events and happenings. But a new project recommends a new space. The blog as e-book, rather than the blog as diary or as notes towards an article. National Finite Blogging Month.

I am extremely interested in someone creating a time and a space where I live in which I can get drunk on words again, as I had where I used to live, but I admit, I do not feel like setting it up myself. But perhaps one needs to prioritize these things.


  1. Cioara Andrei said...
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  2. Olive Tree said...
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  3. Paul said...

    don't be such a little black rain cloud


  4. AbsurdApple said...

    "Drunk on words" you say? Lately, I have felt the same way. My tastes in literature have grown greatly over the years, and I have finally put down those tweeny bopper romance novels and grown into a more crude taste. It is a shame that my generation will be known as the "Twilight" generation, but some part of me feels very proud to snub those girls and boys with their vampire romance fantasies.  


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