I wanted to start this publication on Medium because, looking back recently, I realized there was quite a lot of writing I’d done that wasn’t going out through any of my usual channels, for a number of reasons. Some are simply too challenging for the usual commercial outlets, even those that push the literary envelope like Newcity, where my bylines appear most frequently. Or, alternatively, that may be just too controversial, or a matter more of my own personal opinions than news, as a critic, or wherever I may tend to draw the line between justified true belief and speculative fiction or theory.
It’s a line I like to skirt, as a literary thinker; I’ve always hated the distinctions between fiction, nonfiction, creative nonfiction, whatever the fuck else designation gets invented to serve some industrious rapier-wit’s claim to the newest intellectual “property.”
And, I appreciate you reading. I’m glad to have you along for this self-reflective effort I’m trying to engage in. Sloppily. It’s not always clean and crisp, it gets messy, undefined, a matter of feeling my way along in the dark. Here and there, I’m sure I’ll hit a table-corner, or three, in exactly the wrong way. I hope you’ll make sure to “follow” my Facebook feed. I post there almost indiscriminately, and some of what I’m wrestling with will, I’m sure, cycle back in understanding as to what and why I’m writing here.
So: anchors away. I’ll start pulling things out of drawers, meditating on lewd, but transcendent happy moments. Share the occasional thoughtful meanderings, engage in some slight public outreach and commit to calling out public sleights, answer your letters on love, sex and relationships, engage in some civilly disobedient trouble-making and wrestle with those ideas, just like Jacob with the angel.
I feel pretty fucking hungry to start making further inquiries.