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Preface
2011
December 8th, 2011: “a reaction to Cymbeline performed, or 21st century Shakespeare…”
Intermission 1: A Walk Down Memory Lane (2007 to 2011): Time Capsules Of My Adolescence
2012
2013
2014
Intermission 2: Home
2015
Accepting My Place: Notes to the Creater
And, so, I decide to self-publish again a collection of early writings, knowing that next to no one will read it, that the handful of people who would pick it up would probably label it as self-absorbed, and what for? Well, I enjoy reading the journals of writers, and I think that, here or there, I said something of value in my little scribbles that didn’t make it into any of my other writings. Of course, since most of my early writing falls into the realm of the precocious, you might have to look around for it.
I started blogging because one of my good friends also wanted to start a blog, and so we decided to do it together. This was towards the end of my time at New York University, after I had finished off a year abroad studying at La Universidad Autonoma in Madrid. This year was absolutely fundamental to my understanding of the type of writer I wanted to be and my theories that would come later. However, I started blogging fresh off the time when I had finished my year abroad, a time which convinced me I wanted to spend the rest of my life traveling and working on my novels; nothing more, and nothing less. I was figuring out how to assort my fledgling thoughts into the Narrative of Literature, which meant I was trying to actively place myself into the writing of Critical Theory. Of course, with age, I realized that theory means little, and it is the art that matters. However, most of my writing for 2011 falls into my theories of literature and novels.
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December 17th, 2011: “a reaction to Don Quixote, the novel of great transitions…”
I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but Don Quixote’s knightly name is The Knight of the Sorrowful Face. It comes when Sancho, after Don Quixote flogs yet another unfortunate soul on the early part of his journey, says, “I was looking at your face for a while in the light of the torch that unlucky man was carrying, and the truth is that your grace has the sorriest-looking face I’ve seen recently” (Cervantes 139).
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