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Further thoughts on WWAATD.

June 24, 2010 \pm\30 2:59 pm

Since Nester broke down that fourth wall with his State of the Union here at WWAATD, I thought I’d share a few words as well.

What I find most interesting about this blog is that all of our posts are contextualized by imminent death. Literally, everything here falls under the header of “We Who Are About to Die.”

I don’t know about you people, but if  given ten days to live I would not give two fritters about poet fashionlong titles, or many of the other myriad topics we cover here. I’m not saying I’d seize life by the cojones, head straight for Morocco and go skydiving (more like binge-eat tuna melts and babble to god). But whatever my reaction to word of impending death, you can bet I’d wish I spent more time writing actual poems and less time blinging out photos of Anne Sexton.

And yet, I am about to die—we all are, sooner rather than later. In the face of our brief time here on earth, why is it we all keep on blogging?

  1. June 24, 2010 \pm\30 3:37 pm 3:37 pm

    Seems I should have commented here.

    Like Robin, I’ve started and stopped a number of posts, but a few times have been able to get something to stick. I posted a contest awhile ago to win a copy of Lydia Davis’ Proust. But no one entered. Not sure if that’s indicative of a lack of interest in Davis, Proust, or myself, but regardless I’m happy to be in their company.

    I posted a Michael Ondaatje video I’ve probably watched more than any visitor. I love that man. “I am the cinnamon peeler’s wife. Smell me.”

    I started contributing because Broder asked me if I wanted to and because I thought it would be fun, and it has. I never did this before. I don’t have internet at home so have to do it other places. It’s like going to grad school part time—part of the group but not fully engaged.

    I think I would contribute more if I didn’t put so much pressure on myself—I don’t think of this as creating art here, more entertaining each other via a mutual interest. Maybe others hold posts up as pieces of art, and that’s fine, great, actually. I just don’t because I can’t. Writing art is, bluntly, writing something that doesn’t suck, that you’re proud of. It takes me a long time to do that. I want a blog and its comments to be a place where I don’t have to worry about my writing being evaluated as art.

    I may be taking it all too seriously. But I can’t really help it. I’d be a hack and hypocrite if I didn’t take it seriously.

    I shouldn’t worry about it. There are plenty of stories of mine out there that prove me to be a hack already. A few in particular come to mine. There’s a passage of my book that’s absolutely dreadful I almost edited out, but didn’t, and it’s the one page I think about whenever someone says they read the book. “Did you read that page?” I want to ask. “Did you hate it? Do you hate me? Please don’t hate me or my book. I care very deeply that you approve of my book and me. I need to know I am not wasting my time sitting at my station and trying to affect something onto the page.”

    So I hope you like this blog. And I hope you like this comment. I care very deeply that you like it. I’m scared to admit that. Which is good. It’s honest. If we are supposed to be those whom are about to die, we should be honest above all else. I don’t want bullshit for an epitaph.

  2. June 24, 2010 \pm\30 5:44 pm 5:44 pm

    OK, you people need to just calm the fuck down. ;-)

    From the outside I can tell you that you are doing just fine. In fact, you’re better than fine. I know a few people that are watching and enjoying you regularly (cue creepy music).

    And Joseph, I think a lot of times comments are a poor indicator of worth. I missed your contest for whatever reason, or I might have entered – and won, seemingly!

  3. June 24, 2010 \pm\30 8:02 pm 8:02 pm

    I hate this blog and I never read it.

    • June 25, 2010 \pm\30 2:19 pm 2:19 pm

      I didn’t even know this was a blog. Rethinking things.

      • June 26, 2010 \pm\30 6:22 pm 6:22 pm

        Let’s tear this mother down and build it back up as a BBS.

  4. June 26, 2010 \pm\30 3:59 pm 3:59 pm

    Every time I get a laugh from a joke, it’s approval. Every silence I get echos the silence that followed my inquiry to several adolescent boys, “Who wants to swim with me?” at Melissa Broder’s pool party in 7th grade.

    But every so often I have a set where I get up and truly enjoy myself. I may gave gotten a few laughs but mostly I made myself laugh.

    And honestly that’s when I’m reminded most that I will die. Because, hell- if I’m gonna die I might as well entertain myself before I go.

    Given 10 days I, too, would binge on tuna melts.


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