a foreward

I suppose i'll start this the way i guess most anybody would; by saying i've never done this before. but all the same i'll do my best to introduce myself. I was thinking of first giving a background story and telling everybody where i was born and where i grew up and what my parents did and what i did in highschool and so on, but i find that i'm really not that interested in that just now. and honestly, you'll probably get a better sense of me by reading what i'm interested in in the present instead of skimming through a mindless autobiography. I'll work backwards though, a little bit at a time. It's not to say that my autobiography wouldn't be interesting, but honestly, rattling off a bunch of names and dates and stories would make me out to be a lot more dull than i like to think i am.
So this evening I hung out with an english major friend of mine, who was studying james joyce. he handed me a part of finnegans wake. i don't know how else to explain it other than mindblowing. I've read plenty of Joyce and considered him in a lot of lights -- from absolute genius to pretentious and elitist. But now he was just insane. The damn book is 800 pages of gibberish. I knew exactly what it was though; dadaist literature. We did some research on the book and Joyce, as it turns out, was trying to capture a stream of conciousness right before falling asleep. Admittedly he does it well, but if you read anything more than a sentance it becomes completely incoherent and absolutely unintelligible. This is exactly what dadaism is supposed to do.
Well, there's a lot to dadaism, and much more to joyce, and i happen to be pretty tired so i'm gonna call it a night. I'll post soon with more on absurd things like dadaism, tuvan throat singing, and what i did before puberty. It's all interesting, I promise. Keep reading. Sorry if I suck. You suck for reading this. Sorry, i'm done.