Chronic Murmuring

Blogger updates

A few updates. First, Joel Wilhelm has reopened his old blog. It's entitled "Eleysium." It will be good to hear his daily thoughts again.

Also, Wayne has moved to a new domain. Wayne, and his close kin Brian Davis, remind me of Yeats and his father, the painter. Neither of them seemed able to actually finish their works. All of their poems and paintings were works in progress, continually being revised. It was said that the senior Yeats had been contracted by a European prince to paint his portrait, and that thirteen years later, Mr. Yeats refused to give him the painting because he "wasn't finished yet." So, even though Wayne's new domain and new blog is beautiful, don't expect it to be finished yet either.

On a different note, I'm going into hybernation for a while. The ongoing battle with personal productivity requires that I get out of this office during the day. My officemates play Rush Limbaugh on the radio for about eight hours straight, and I can't get anything done, nor do I particularly enjoy listening to Rush. And besides, when I have access to my blog, I blog on anything I can think about. This blog has fully taken the place of my journal. In fact, I'm far more consistent in recording my thoughts with this blog than I ever was with my journal. For that alone, I see the blog as a good thing. I think I have the innate need to share my thoughts with others, and that that is partly why the journal was so irregular. I used to beat myself up about that. Virginia Woolf used to as well. She felt it revealed a lack of authenticity to her writing that she needed to publish. She believed, for the most part, that the writer should write out of a love for writing, which is certainly true, but she couldn't understand the value of needing to have it published. But I think there must be something inherently communal about writing, and while it is important to closely examine our motivations for doing everything - including blogging - I think it's probably true that writing requires an audience in order for the writer to feel satisfied. Woolf felt the need for publication because she needed someone else to consume her words for the process to make sense. Writing is a form of communication, but that implies that it is to someone. Still, my productivity's down, I need to get out of this office, at least for a few weeks, and hopefully, I'll only be updating this occasionally.