A preamble of sorts

I’ve been puzzled by exactly what to do here on my personal blog. I used to write about books, but now I write about books on Jacket Copy. I write a second blog for the LA Times, which is kind of technology-green-hipster-culture, which covers a lot of stuff of other than books. And I do some other work that, when I began, I was asked not to discuss online.

So if I’m not writing about books (which I love), or contemporary culture (which I like), or the other stuff I’m doing (which is mine), what do I write about? Since I Twitter, what’s the point of blogging, anyway?

Some people use blogs to vent bile. Throw mud. I’m torn. Do I throw mud back at the person who threw it at me last week? Do I point out inaccuracies, exaggerations, and reveal the short and rather pathetic backstory?

Meh.

I will tell you this: in my new rental, which is sandwiched between an apartment building full of gang kids and one of LA’s most beautiful residential streets, I can hear birds singing in the morning, and have tried to to save a fledgling from the neighborhood cats.

People came over to see this new place this weekend. It’s like you, they said. But my last place — a tall 1920s brick apartment building with a chilly pool and a bar on the ground floor was like me, too.

I think I’ve fooled them into thinking any place is like me by filling them all full of books.

Currently reading: a book for review & Jonathan Lethem’s Chronic City for fun.

About the author

I like sitting in Jack Webb's booth.