I'm sitting by the side of the road. The driver is changing a tire. I'm not content where I come from. I'm not content where I'm going. Why do I watch the tire-changing with impatience?
Brecht quote I have tacked up to the bulletin board behind my desk (back of this bookmark from the fab now-closed indie bookstore by my house): "Hungry man reach for the book, it is a weapon." It makes me think of you even if you didn't translate it. I think it's the foody sentiment.
I love that plumpes Denken, Taurus that I am! I sure wish you were here for coffee and conversation. I miss your intense obliquity. Or was that oblique intensity?
You're looking at content from my Live Journal, which I have been keeping since 2003. I consider it a personal blog, though it lacks stream-of-consciousness revelations that typify that genre.
That said, if you manage to discern the confessional mode within entries that are superficially tight-lipped, I will reward you handsomely. Or at least pretend to do so.
In addition to reflections, however mediated, on my daily activities, De File features periodic excavations of material from my "files," a revelation sure to disturb anyone who has seen my garage. It's an experiment in integrating past and present, perhaps with a little redemption along the way.
Politics is always on my mind, but rarely explicit here. I’m working on a theory about what personal writing like this does to literary identification and why some people resist its pull so powerfully. But my goal is to make that theory dissolve in my practice, a density in liquid.
You'll note that I have links to blogs not on LiveJournal directly above, as well as assorted websites of note. The blogs I read regularly on LiveJournal itself fall under "FRIENDS" at the top, for those of you unfamiliar with LJ’s workings.
You can write me. I'm "cbertsch" before the circle-a and "comcast.net" after it.
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