And there I am. At one of those instantly recognizable gravatar profiles.
And… nothing. No blog link, no facebook, email or twitter. Just a name and a photo, and sometimes not their photo, just the standard blue and white default gravatar image.
Now, I understand that there is a segment of people who don’t have a blog or twitter, or whatever. They may be on facebook, but they wish to keep it private, and they like to read blogs and comment anonymously. I get it. That’s cool. Do your thing.
There are those who do have blogs, and want more readers. Well, people who find your comment(s) interesting won’t be able to check out your site if they click on that little box…
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My name is unpronounceable in your language. And I would teach you mine but I can see from here you would stop at the first personal pronoun. You would learn it by heart and carry it everywhere between your teeth and your cheek. You would root up the green grass and keep it only for yourself. Well you would, there’s no mystery. You think this is my first time at the rodeo? You would be no better off than yourself, but you will never see past your own self baptism to realize it. You. Can you be sure of understanding my language? You are of one mind and I see no help for you. You’ll be who you are and a bull’s a bull for a’ that.
I was half expecting that the high tide of Bloomsday 2012 would, for me, be a turning point in my apparent addiction to James Joyce’s Ulysses. Most of July passed without a thought of 16 June 2013 or daily perusals of the book. But now an inspiration from Ms. Bloom has surfaced in the ill-formed shape of a volume Dublin-printed and assembled and kickstarted and ready for readers on Bloomsday 2013. Maybe this would be its cover, if it ever comes to be.
Everyone goes on and on about original ideas, yet the the notion of an original idea in art has only been with us for about one-hundred years. This concept was propagated by the Modernists who sought to abandon the superstitions and folklore of the past. These Modernists valued the strange and surreal over traditional storytelling. Novelists like James Joyce and William Faulkner wanted their stories to be difficult and complex. They thought that if the story were intricate, then it would supersede oral tradition. (Ironically, Joyce’s seminal work, Ulysses, modeled itself off of the Odysseus myth.) Even today, we look for originality as a sign that something is “good”.
Skipping to before the twentieth century, we see that folklore and tradition reign. People retold stories over and over again, in a game of telephone that lasted centuries. The myth of Odysseus wasn’t even written down for ages. People simply memorized…
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