Some old notes

This morning I thumbed through a six-year-old notebook and came across a bit of nostalgia for the golden age of blogging: I felt so much more connected to my sense of the world back in the days when I would jot down whatever came to mind on my little station in the ether, oblivious to the lunatic currency of social media. I did not think about writing as any kind of career or persona; it was simply a way of figuring out the world.

I’d like to find my way back to that sense of writing, and I’m glad I’ve committed to posting something each night for one year. But Christ, I picked a hell of a year for this exercise. My interest in triangulating art, faith, and the day’s events feels increasingly toothless, maybe even oblivious. There’s so much to figure out in 2020.

Each night in 2020, I wrote a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I wanted to etch these days into my memory. Before the world changed completely.
Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Related Reading
December 31, 2020

End

The end of the year leaves me feeling as if I'm supposed to be reflective; I find myself hunting for revelations that never arrive.
July 24, 2022

Fires

Interstate Scene 7: Headlights and taillights shimmered, their drivers hopped up on coffee and talk radio.
July 11, 2020

Fiction

Lately I’ve been torn between the possibilities of fiction versus my compulsion to record each day’s events in this nightly journal.
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x