The One Where I Preface

Firstly, I would like to welcome (both of) my readers to this, the first installment of my blog. Long past my death, after I gain notoriety, respectability and praise, these installments shall be found in the annals of the Internet, eventually to be placed in my collected works. I would like to thank Prof. Elissa M. Gurman-Radcliffe of the University of Edinburgh, in advance, for editing the edition and directing all royalties towards The B.D. Gerald Memorial Fund for Children with Inconveniently Wide Feet.

Secondly, I must take issue with the notion of "theme". I find "themes", like shoes, to be a restriction put forth by the ruling elite to suppress the intellectual development of the proletariat. These episodes of my life shall not bow to the limits set forth by the wealthy few, but will be (as the title suggests) the nonsensical ravings of an over-educated, misanthropic young adult who will do just about anything to avoid studying for exams and writing his paper.

I've inadvertently developed a ginger coloured growth on my face; this is a common consequence of exam period. A vow was also made to wear nothing but sweatpants and hoodies until the much anticipated evening of the 16th day of December. That evening, after I present my mastery of the Victorians and their literatures, I hope to remove the growth and reenter the world, battle scared and spent.

My muse, Clarissa, heard that I was putting character to web page this evening and insisted she be mentioned.

What should you expect as you log on eagerly each day to see if I've updated my meditations? Shall there be wisdom? enlightenment? advice? Well my friends, the answer is no. The more you anticipate and hope to gain from my writings, the less likely you are to continue reading. Contrary to popular belief, I am not the Barack Obama of blogging, but more appropriately, the Peter O'Toole.

As shall be customary, I leave you with a quote.

"Don't be humble, you're not that great"
- Golda Meir