Bear, Bore

This isn't self-deprecating but: I'm a bore. At least as an inter-text. My seldom yet lofty submissions are usually entirely self-absorbed and esoteric. I'm constantly rehashing and reminding myself of the goals I have in maintaining a blog. I want(ed) to:

1. make comments on my surroundings that may be appreciated/cerebrally encouraging to my 1.5 readers, perhaps leading to discussions or exchanges that will allow me to be an even more thorough and informed critical onlooker.

2. allow myself a space for deliberations and communication that didn't have the pressures or standards of academic writing. Exercises in writing that left room for error in a cosmetic sense while stilling helping to keep the chops up.

3. maybe, just maybe, click with other pensive furrow-browed twentysomething cutes.

So I say I'm a bore but most random blogs I read are just as tedious as mine. My friends write clever, engaging, and completely accessible blogs that always offer something easily relatable. I'm thoroughly amused by their commentaries and often hysterical observations. Their links are there --->

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I've been overwhelmed with the word Bear. It started in March when I read Faulkner's The Old People and then immediately jumped into The Bear. I enjoyed becoming so tiny a figure in his old semi-infiltrated landscapes. I'd close the book feeling damp and musty. But the image of the Bear kept on. Soon after I kept seeing images of Bears at random. And then I watched a Joanna Newsom video of her performing Monkey and Bear, and then there's always the verbs. To bear, bore. A bear, a bore, my bare, my boar. It's amazing. Sounds, letters, tenses, all changing and mixing, a rubik's cube of meanings. How gorgeous.