If blogs are the garage-bands of the new millennium, it's high time I join in.
I was never in a band, actually, and I still see this as one of my great failings. I was once asked if I would play bass guitar in a death-metal band; not knowing how to play the bass, or being particularly attracted to the death metal genre, I declined. Still, I was flattered. Clearly the discomfort of my steel-toed combat boots paid off in the image department.
Not that I aspire to the reaches of such rockstars as the in the middle or bitch, but I do feel the...the pressing need for confessionalism, for ranting, and for a lot of pointless discussion of the details of my life that can no longer be sustained within my actual relationships. I like to make things. I like to talk about myself. I also have this vague fantasy that this will help me to engage in some kind of Academic Discourse of sorts--or, at the very least, get me to think about things and write about them.
I've titled this post after Art Brut's song of the same name. "Yes, this is my singing voice. It's not irony," Eddie Argos deadpans halfway through the track. Calling attention to itself through the putative denial of its very obvious irony--well, I can't help but think of how deeply self-conscious this post, and indeed much of the world of blogging, actually is. I'm kind of embarrassed to be writing here. Yes, I am embarrassed. I admit it. And I'm not sure how widely I'll be publicizing this latest endeavor of mine (or how long I'll actually keep it up).
So, in an attempt to surmount my embarrassment by claiming my actions--and "claiming" an action, or an identity, is a dare that no academic can resist--I'll finish this introductory post by appropriating the most triumphal moment of Brut's chorus:
Look at me! I formed a blog.