[A broad margin of leisure is as beautiful in a man's life as in a book. Haste makes waste, no less in life than in housekeeping. Keep the time, observe the hours of the universe, not of the cars. What are threescore years and ten hurriedly and coarsely lived to moments of divine leisure in which your life is coincident with the life of the universe?]
welcome friends and strangers!
i created this blog in the (perhaps naive) hope of exploring with some purpose the three more-ephemeral loves of my life: literature, essay-writing, and the south.
i'm just as much a confused twenty-something as my peers, treading the metaphorical waters of learning, employment, relationships, and culture. but i handle my questioning of the life around me mostly through the written word. when i was a child, my mother left coffee-stained manuscripts around the house; she never published, but i have and must continue to. she also made me read classic novels--of the british and american variety--before i read anything else. i fed off hardy and austen and fitzgerald, and these writers and more remain my literary (and emotional) bread and butter.
i created this blog in the (perhaps naive) hope of exploring with some purpose the three more-ephemeral loves of my life: literature, essay-writing, and the south.
i'm just as much a confused twenty-something as my peers, treading the metaphorical waters of learning, employment, relationships, and culture. but i handle my questioning of the life around me mostly through the written word. when i was a child, my mother left coffee-stained manuscripts around the house; she never published, but i have and must continue to. she also made me read classic novels--of the british and american variety--before i read anything else. i fed off hardy and austen and fitzgerald, and these writers and more remain my literary (and emotional) bread and butter.
when i'm happy, i write. when i'm upset or scared, i write. it's my connection to the world around me, and most importantly to the cultural and literary meanings attached to this place i live in--this place called the south.
i love beautiful things, but i also think scarred things can be beautiful. don't read this blog if the fanciful bothers you, or if you don't think life can be romantic or epic or just downright glorious. don't read this blog if you shy away from emotion or analytical thought or sometimes-necessary cynicism. don't read this blog if you don't like to read.
the blog's title is derived from one of my favorite quotes by thoreau (see it above in context); he'll make many appearances here, as his ideas of nature and the world around us constantly shape my own hopes and dreams. my brain is a jumbled place, but here is the place within which i plan to make the most sense. here i will post essays (some short, some longer) on what i'm reading, what i've read, the places i go, the places i've been, and the people who intrigue the hell out of me. what's the worth of this blog? the purpose?
making literature relevant again, even if only in small ways.
i love beautiful things, but i also think scarred things can be beautiful. don't read this blog if the fanciful bothers you, or if you don't think life can be romantic or epic or just downright glorious. don't read this blog if you shy away from emotion or analytical thought or sometimes-necessary cynicism. don't read this blog if you don't like to read.
the blog's title is derived from one of my favorite quotes by thoreau (see it above in context); he'll make many appearances here, as his ideas of nature and the world around us constantly shape my own hopes and dreams. my brain is a jumbled place, but here is the place within which i plan to make the most sense. here i will post essays (some short, some longer) on what i'm reading, what i've read, the places i go, the places i've been, and the people who intrigue the hell out of me. what's the worth of this blog? the purpose?
making literature relevant again, even if only in small ways.
