Monday, March 21, 2011

I Curate My Life Through Twitter

Twitter, when used, I think, in its greatest capacity brings together the social networky-ness of Facebook and the pervasive Interwebs roundup that is the Google Reader. I find the Google reader interface to be too overbearing and I never have the time or patience to scroll back through things. I'd rather someone give me a 140 character blurb about it with a link and I can go read it, or favorite it to go back to later.

And you can find some fascinating stuff. I got a copy of a journal called Afterzine in the mail the other day because I wound up following the man who edits it because I followed the Paris Review blog editor because my neighbor Caitlin used to work there and so I followed her too. I bought the journal because its founder said he'd give half the proceeds to a Japan relief organization. About a day or two before every retailer started trying to use the earthquake for marketing.

For an indie journal printed in someone's apartment in Brooklyn, it seemed an appropriate way to raise money for a cause. For J Crew, it just seemed douche-tastic.

But poking around Twitter unearths a treasure-trove of tumblrs and blogs and articles and journals and novels and news about Book Court and what happened when four New York Times journalists were kidnapped and the crazy shit Fahmiwrite's kids say. (They're awesome.)

And sometimes I can make y'all read my stories.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Renaissance Redux

So much has happened. So many things found and lost and my heart was broken again, but by someone from whom I least expected it.

I stopped writing.

I stopped wanting to share. The days were dark. The nights were long. It was always snowing. I was broken.

But I had weathered much harsher storms. And so I emerge. As one does. Slightly softer. Slightly harder. Not who you expected you would be. As you perhaps did, once the snow finally melted and you remembered what it was like to squint because the sun was shining.

I had a lot to say, but couldn't be bothered.

Now, I ask again. Indulge me.