I teach English and composition classes at the university where I am studying. At the beginning of every class, multiple times a week, I say the same thing to my young students: I appreciate you being here. And I hope I sound sincere to them, rather than maudlin or overbearing. There’s nothing quite like being in a physical space with other people—looking in eyes, hearing voices, talking about interesting ideas. In other words, it’s the being-with that really matters. So when my students show up, I am genuinely appreciative, because it means they find our class meaningful at least in this most basic but essential sense. It might sound backwards, but this actually takes precedence over the day’s course content. Learning begins in dialogue and in language, and that requires people to speak and people to listen—call and response.
I have faith that we can emulate something of that presence even over a silly blog like this. I imagine this Substack will be about a few things: my life, literature, teaching, faith. It might also be a simple journal or a place for reflection. Probably some or all of these things at once. My thoughts will often look like commonplaces—fragments, reflections on passages within my personal reading that have meant something to me. I’m excited to see what exactly comes along the way, and I hope you enjoy reading the posts that are soon to come.
Why now?
I have a disconcerting number of thoughts and ideas dispersed in my Notes app. Sometimes I will scroll through and find a blurb from six, twelve, maybe even thirty-six months ago.
Last modified December 15, 2018 at 7:12pm:
questions for mom and dad and grandpa:
-cold war
-what were all the wars like
-what was y2k like
-what was it like living through the 90s terrorism things; Waco, Oklahoma, Ruby Ridge
Okay, interesting. What was I thinking this for? Where was I headed? I could tease this out. I could make a post about this. If I remember correctly, I was momentarily astounded by the overwhelming force of my elders’ life experience. They have lived through so much, and I should ask them about it. One day I won’t be able to ask. That could be a Substack post. Let’s look at another, from apparently the same day.
Last modified December 15, 2018 at 10:05am:
writing is hard because you have a million words to choose from and a trillion ways to combine them. by the time you’re done you simply have to pray that the permutation you fell upon makes sense
Now we’re talking. This could really be a post. I could beef this thing up with some theory, or maybe keep it simple, or maybe add an additional reflection for some length. But the end and the beginning is all wrapped up here in these two sentences, ready-made for some meditation on aesthetics and language.
I would love to delete these and other notes from my computer one day, putting them down more permanently in a place like this. And if it isn’t too bold, I think you might find these ideas worth reading.
Another reason for this Substack is more personal. As a literature PhD student currently working on a dissertation, much of what I do is solitary. My book-length project has an audience of three, maybe four people (depending on my committee members’ commitment). If it becomes a book one day (fingers crossed) this audience grows to double digits. We’re talking exponential growth of readership. I know what you’re thinking—but don’t worry, I won’t forget my roots.
In all seriousness, I hope that this Substack can be a place to test out ideas and reach a real audience of people (friends, family, soon-to-be-friends) who care about what I care about—art, philosophy, religion, etc. All the good stuff.
I’ll post irregularly, but at least once every few weeks. I won’t force it. I know you guys don’t want that. And all of this will definitely be free, unless I manage to scrounge up a modest one million subscribers or so, and then I’ll ask for $1 from each of you and retire to Switzerland for a while.
It’s hard to say where exactly you are going when you set out on a roadtrip to somewhere new, even if you know the theoretical path. You might guess at what the highway will look like along the way, how the weather might change in a couple hours, what the gas station or Wendy’s a couple states away might have to offer. But all of these are just intuitions. It takes getting on the road—experience—to see what is in store. Thus I start this Substack.