The strangest thing about this whole endeavor is the matter of voice. Of persona. I can say with some confidence that yesterday's post was written in a style that I don't normally use. I mean, obviously it's not my academic voice (thank God), but neither is it my epistolary voice, my fiction-writing voice, or even the voice I use in journals and the like. It is, instead, some kind of odd sarcastic hybrid that I really quite enjoy. Experimenting with it is giving me a greater sense of the appeal of blogging: the opportunity to be someone else, in print; to flesh out a manner, a tone, a style of speech that you enjoy but can't (or won't, for whatever reason) normally make public.
Clearly, anonymity is the key. Bitch Ph.D. has an interesting paper on anonymity and personas, and that plus yesterday's post have got me thinking about the weird freedom of writing under a non-name. I can be as facetious as I want, for example, and no one will care. Of course--and I hate to point out the obvious here, but it ought to be mentioned--there is the fact that no one is reading this. Because only two people actually know about the existence of this blog, and I think that they both get enough of me in real life that they don't need to go through these ramblings, too. However, at some point, someone might read this, but in the authorial present/near-future, it's unlikely, and pursuing this theme will get me into all kinds of tedious pronomial and temporal confusion, so I'd best change the subject.
--To lunch. I had one too many beers last night; some food is well in order. Accursed bartender! (Actually, one of the bartenders did buy the last round, so my vitriol is not entirely ill-placed.) Leftovers await. Followed by a four-hour bus ride.
Off I go, then--