A writer can't be alone with his work.

I am finally getting around to making a website.  I've resisted it for a long time for a number of reasons: a low-grade technophobia, lack of a good color scheme.  Primarily, though, I suffer from a rather Midwestern dislike of self-promotion.  I don't want to appear vain or arrogant.  I am extremely vain and rather arrogant, of course, but I don't want everybody to know it right off the bat.  No poet is really modest--modesty and self-expression are generally at odds--but I want to at least keep up the facade of false humility.

Not only have I indulged in a website, I'm even setting up a blog.  This little blog.  A blog seems like the absolute height of vanity, but I hope to temper the narcissism somewhat by using this space sparingly and for good.  I plan on sharing the things that inspire or interest or amuse me: the books I'm reading, the music I'm hearing, the movies I'm watching.  A writer doesn't work in absolute solitude; there's always something beside or behind him when he writes, helping or distracting or just sitting there with a weird look and an odd humming sound.  

So let me introduce you to my friends.