3/4's Start

In the tradition (started only yesterday) of posting things that were nearly rejected (by me), I post the following. I started this post about which books to bring with me on vacation, which seemed a fine thing to post about, relevant to the ongoing book monologue that I have with myself both privately and on this web log (notice I didn’t write the dreaded B word), which is sort of like a private discussion. Then I thought: who cares? Why get a blog? A facebook account? Twitter? Ugh, what wastes of time. It’s all wrapped up in this idea that we have to be constantly performing for the handful (if that) of people that might come along and read these cyber pages. In light of this thought (hardly original, I know, but still…) I decided to only post things that I thought I would want to read. Topical posts. Book posts (real ones, not just inane thoughts on what book to bring on vacation). Then I thought, well who cares about that either? Faux criticism is pretty pretentious and dull. What’s the point? Well, this internal chattering went on for most of the week (which is only half over, but, again, still…). I think I’ve come to this conclusion: if no one cares, then what does it matter if I post gibberish about what book I want to read on a plane ride, not to mention what I think about César Vallejo, Otis Redding, or anyone/thing else mentioned herein? Ahhhh… how liberating. So that explains some of the rationale, or lack thereof, behind the posts you have seen and will be seeing going forward, as I have lots of bullshit planned and plenty of Twitter-like posts about what I had for breakfast and which toothpaste I prefer, because, like the rest of you kids, I think I’m so fucking important that I need to tell you. I NEED TO. I want to be an internet celeb one day. This will surely get me halfway there. Right?

Thanks for tolerating the long intro.

Ghosts is out, but you’d hardly know it. The book is on its way to Borders, or so they tell me. I don’t think Barnes & Nobel has plans to stock it right this moment. I’m guessing that the only store in town with a copy is the Seminary Co-Op. Alas.

By week’s end I hope to have Montano’s Malady by Enrique Vila-Matas finished. For anyone who might say that I only read Latin American writers, chill. Vila-Matas is a Spaniard. So there.

But what books are you bringing on vacation, you ask? I’ve devoted considerable time to this question and here’s what I’m thinking:

Songs of Life and Hope – Ruben Darío
Posthumous Poems of César Vallejo
Amulet – Roberto Bolaño
Ghosts – César Aira (assuming I find it before Friday)

If Aira doesn’t bubble up to the surface the time I’m ready to fly away, then I’ll make due with those three books. I am considering bring Cosmic Canticle by Ernesto Cardenal, but it’s a bit thick and space is limited. And I worry that such a time—dense in more than weight—might not get proper attention on the trip.

That’s as far as I got and as far as you’ll get. Stay tuned for more ego.