reshma sanyal, the author of this world as i see it, has some poetic entries. she uses pretty colors and different fonts and all that good stuff. and her photoblog has lots o neat shots.
reshma is from india so she goes to cool places, like calcutta, and has some different traditions, like pujas. and she spells pome,' pohm', which i think is pretty. she's kind of exotic and bohemian and down-to-earth, all at the same time. today is her birthday and she got lots of nice presents.
i've enjoyed her blog.some entries she just writes a pohm about wine, the next she might be tagged to write a 55-word story, the next she's talking about a trip she took. i don't know how old she is, or where she works, or any of her specifics, and i kind of like it that way.
i called reshma an 'author' on purpose because i'm tired of the literary canon and a bit tired of the bubble world of academia. this is brain fatigue talking, i'm sure.
in one of my classes we've been (re)reading the ole Barthes and Foucault and all that jazz about the almighty 'author,' that yes, i used to revere much more than i do now. authors used to be my superheroes, but now i know the kind of life scholars have to lead and... i want to live, more than posthumously. i want to get past myself, do i want to transcend...? that would be pretty sweet.
what is an author, what about the death of the author, am i an author? is anyone who can write an author?
i haven't even been drinking tonight. but i've got to run, i'm actually going out into the night way after my bedtime. so farewell, dear reader, i bid this tangentially challenged post, bon soir~*