Page Seven.

You've seen the cover and the title page, the table of contents is sort of muddled, and the about the author is linked to somewhere because there is no back to this book. In the midst of all that at once, you are here, on the first page of the story, page seven of the book, or maybe nine, or twenty-two, which is a bit much but not unheard of, especially if we're dealing with one of those Roman-Numeral marked forewords--still the only time I ever really see them--that give you plot summaries to stories you've yet to read (thanks a lot Andrew Hurley, whoever you are, and by "whoever" I mean translator of a few of the Borges collections I have lying around).

The first page of a story never really digs into me, because it's all set-up. Still, they are mostly necessary, as not all tales can be told in medias res, and no tale, except for that illusory Book of Sand can be given lacking of a first page. Blogs, however, one can skip around without ever really reading wholly, and so in that I am perhaps giving the analogy too much credence, and might, one day, stumble upon this first original post and cringe (but not right here, because right here I will be patting myself on the back for foresight... nope, just said "patting myself on the back" and nobody ever really does that, so even my glorious foresight will be cringe-worthy).

This has aims of being some kind of connection from one quiet soul to a few. I've learned that novel-writing, in all of its brilliance and illuminating of an otherwise shamefully unexamined soul, sometimes misses the directness in pages that simply essaying (in its literal sense, which my friend and neighbor bryan will remind me of to a specific) can achieve in paragraphs. I love the brushstrokes, don't get me wrong, but to simply show you a photograph sometimes might get this dialogue rolling along a little faster (plus I don't need to sell this to a publisher to get you to read it).

My goal is to elaborate on some of the things that make me who I am in ways I wouldn't typically within the course of general human interaction (because human connections are deft little things, and escape us right at the moment of our thinking we've grasped them), not for the purpose of self-aggrandizement, but rather, for connection and understanding. The efforts will more likely than not focus on areas of my passions (books, films, albums, good beer and other hand-crafted booze) and might sway into the territory of mere interests (healthy eating) and will undoubtedly touch upon the great and distinguished enigmas and curiosities of life (professions, marriage, manhood, sports, religion).

Hopefully this will become something good.

-T