Enigmatic Update that Panders to My Sense of Self-Worth

I write this with the vague and fleeting notion that there are still people who irregularly check this blog and hope to someday find regular updates.

I’ve been writing elsewhere recently: most critically as Live Theatre’s guest blogger, but sporadically – often drunkenly – on CAPTCHA, my attempt at trying to fuse the minds of Tao Lin, Steve Roggenbuck and Julia Darling. No, I don’t know what I mean either.

Regardless, CAPTCHA (and the myriad related internet poetry/macro Tumblrs it tries to emulate) has provided some kind of creative catharsis – or, at the very least, outlet – while I try and negotiate my way through my mid-twenties in this clusterfuck nation of ours.

I have “high and lofty”* hopes of beginning to form the CAPTCHA poems into some kind of coherent narrative over the next “however long”*. I say that; I’ve probably only written 3 worth theirs or anyone else’s salt. So, in short, I’m just beginning to feel again that I might want to actually write some poems. But I’ve totally given up on form and learning about it or learning about why I should learn about it, so expect some prose-poetry about quarter life crises soon. And by ‘soon’ I mean whenever I actually get round to doing it. Priorities, people.

*cryptic Tao Lin references fully intended.