Of Possession
There is something else to you, reader, and it's not entirely you. For I write to communicate to you, reader-who-is-outside, I write to explain things to you, to share my thoughts. But I do not write for you.
I have the damndest time trying to advertise my own writing. Not because I don’t believe it’s good. I wrote my first novel in pencil before I was 12 and I wrote my first blog post when I was fifteen. I have this shit pretty much down by now. Pronoun, adverb adjective noun, verb adverbly, surprising fucking obscenity, tried-and-true aphorism. This blogging shit is easy.
No, it’s not that it’s not…
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SINCE I AM CURRENTLY READING VIRGINIA WOOLFE (TOTALLY ENJOYING), YESTERDAY'S VIEWING...
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Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vanessa Bell (August 1908)
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Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
[originally published 1929]
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Virginia Woolf, The Years
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"I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life."
-Virginia Woolf.
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Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry c. February 1920
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“Never, never tell them. Try and remember that. Never tell anyone anything ever. Never tell anyone anything again.”
from Ernest Hemingway’s, The Garden of Eden
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STARTED READING YESTERDAY...VIRGINIA WOOLFE...1982-1941
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Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
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