This is not a blog. After all, there is really no need for any more blogs. There are already substantially more than 100 million blogs on the internet, and almost all of them are saying things that are far more interesting than what I will say.
This is a place where I can think publicly and where others can think with me if they care to do so. It is an amalgam of writings that is concerned, not with entertaining a public audience or with occupying a space within the sphere of the web, but with enabling a different way for me to think together with others, about literature and philosophy, about edible gardens and preserving fruit, about documentary film and open source software, about the many things that I find worth thinking and writing.
It is also a place where I can write, not just as an act of communication, as most public forums increasingly demand of the writer, but as an act of desire for words and for language. The title of this blog that is not a blog testifies particularly to the literary aspect of what I want to do through it. It is from Roland Barthe’s The Lover’s Discourse (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978), and the full quotation reads, “From word to word, I struggle to put into other words the selfness of my image, to express improperly the propriety of my desire.” To me, this space is a chance to perform the struggle that Barthe describes, to write myself, to write my desire for writing.
Of course, it is a blog also, whether I want it to be or not. It uses a popular blog software package, is indexed by technorati, and falls within the distressingly wide and imprecise definition that popularly pertains to a blog. Even so, its concern is elsewhere.