I would like to Tweet. Twitter. Chirp. But whatever I have to say doesn’t really fit into 140 characters, so I thought I would blog instead. I admire the person who can condense his or her life into 140-character slices. Microblogging, I believe they call it. It takes me more than 140 characters just to wander through my intro paragraph to get to the part that I really wanted to talk about.
I think I am really an essayist at heart. You know, Montaigne, Emerson, Kingsley Amis, Umberto Eco, those guys. Distinguished by a dearth of women essayists. I guess the gals were too busy living life to ponder upon it.
The essay is a very interesting literary form. Wiki says: Essays can consist of a number of elements, including: literary criticism, political manifestos, learned arguments, observations of daily life, recollections, and reflections of the author. The definition of an essay is vague, overlapping with those of an article and a short story. Almost all modern essays are written in prose.
The definition of an essay is vague…. Whoopee! I’m in like Flynn. Vague is my middle name. Therefore, I shall write rambling pieces devoted to literary criticism, observations of daily life, and reflections of my own inner conscious state.
Could be fun.
Did you know that the expression in like Flynn refers to Errol Flynn and dates back to 1942? That was even before I was born. But not much. Dang, he was a handsome son of a gun.
I never could resist a man in a trench coat.
Well, maybe not him. Although they are low, I do have my standards.