I’ve never tried blogging, believing that there is a kind of vanity in the process, perhaps. But I’m a writer of books and songs, and there is vanity in that, as well, in the idea that anybody out there wants to hear anything I’ve got to say in the first place. So, really, it’s no great leap, just a different medium of expression. I’ll be posting consistently, but never about personal matters.
I just finished reading Tim O’brien’s The Things They Carried. I somehow managed to miss that one in college. It is one of the finest pieces of fiction I’ve ever read. It is a book about war, gritty and real, yet lyrical and moving. It is one of those books, like East of Eden by Steinbeck or Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms which is so beautifully written I cannot bare to write myself for a few days because anything that comes out of my head is drivel by comparison. It’s a perfect book.