eiron

So,

After roughly nine months of agonizing indecision and torturous introspection, I finally decided to sign-up for this site. It was mostly a point of indifference, but Odyne wanted -- dare I say, needed? -- my presence.

What's there to say in this inaugural blog-thing?

I'm almost done with James Joyce's Ulysses, which is a book I've for the most part enjoyed. I was a little intimidated by the whole stream-of-consciousness style he adopts at many points along the way; years of reading the meandering, go-nowhere Livejournal entries of the disinfranchised youth of today prepared me in ways I could've hardly anticipated, though.

Joyce leads me through turn-of-the-century Dublin. Livejournal leads me through turn-of-the-century Scenesterville.

Joyce describes Leopold Bloom's masturbation in poetic detail. Livejournal provides masturbatory communities of needlessly detailed poetry.

Truly the greats of yesterday are alive today.

Or something.

I've been on the job-hunt for a few weeks now, as income for at least the summer's duration is a must. Taking research assistantships in lieu of a paying job really sodomized my wallet, and while it is regularly swathed in leather, the wallet is just not into that sort of stuff.

Sadly.

I think that's all I've got.