We all love an essay, don’t we guys? Hey?

I think to quite sympathise with where I’m coming from on this one, you need to see what I mean by “essay.”

I’m not saying it’s going to be marked almost at random by an underpaid bespectacled elbow-patch-sporting academic. I don’t mean a glorified apology written under duress at 3 am on nothing but ProPlus and self-recrimination. Although oddly, an “apology” would do just as well for my meaning.

By “essay,” or even “apology,” I’m really saying “a chat on something.” Every now and then I find myself in the shower, on the bus, or in certain registry offices, wondering about a certain subject. An argument forms in my head. A monologue develops. Then, much more interestingly, a dialogue develops: what responses, what criticisms could come? I am a creature possessed. So I jump out of the shower, off of the bus and well beyond the Registrar’s field of vision, and start to write about it.

Of course these sorts of things are even more fascinating when a genuine “dialogue” emerges. Discussing any topic, from Romanticism to demonic contracts, from French symbolism to pulp fiction, is always better when you’re told you’re wrong. So feel free to correct me. I’m eager to learn.

To see some of my brain-monsters in action, or if you’d like to poke them with a stick and rile them up a bit, head this way.


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