Karl Heinz Bohrer makes me something something

Procrastinating my last ten pages of the chapter of Äesthetik des Schreckens I’m supposed to read (this is pared down from “the entire book,” which I had planned to get through by the second week of April), I took an “objective” look at this blog’s pathetic entries for the last three months as if I were a person who just met me and was deciding whether or not I would like to see more of me (this is entirely hypothetical, obviously), and I came to the conclusion that all blogification since the turn of Ought-Six (not to mention 95 percent of it before it) is painful, self-absorbed, and painfully self-absorbed. I realize that’s what blogs are for, but still, I’d like to apologize to anyone related to me or attractive who is reading this right now. (Ugly strangers can fuck off, however.)

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