Ten minutes into my first blogging experience and I'm going to bet that choosing the title will prove to be the most difficult obstacle between my pre-blog life and certain stardom. I am sure I'm not the first to stumble at this step. This morning I read (via The Writer's Almanac daily newsletter) the poet Czeslaw Milosz defined poetry as the "passionate pursuit of the real." Because I like this better than other definitions of poetry, and because I'd like to remember it, I chose to immortalize it here. Here: the space I will no doubt visit everyday, dutifully, regardless of obligation or mood. And because "passionate pursuit" was already taken, I opted for an improvisation, which I already prefer.
I feel a little disingenuous because I'm not presently "passionate" about blogging, nor do I intend to be; though I am passionate about good writing and poetry. In fact, for one of my first posts, perhaps I will catalogue famous and notable definitions of poetry (because definitions can be fun) and then pick them apart one by one. Or let them stand stoically alone for others to ponder. Meh. I don't expect to have others visit anytime soon. Though I suppose this would make a better topic than musing about this strange rash on my forearm which I've discovered just today. I can't remember ever having a rash before, though I'm sure I must have. This being MY blog, I expect I will include both highbrow commentary and personal babblings. Despite my stardom remark, my aim is not to attain readers or profit. So I cannot fail.
