This post should be called the The Artifice of Self-Promotion, The Agonizing Act of Self-Promotion. It will have one sentence: Grin and Bear It. Or maybe this sentence: Suck it up. Or: Just do it dammit. Or: If you don’t who will?
I have nothing much to say about self-promotion, other than the attention on “self” and that pesky hyphen that makes the act feel dirty makes me feel sullied. Promotion is promotion, I’d like to think. Until it’s The Self promoting The Self. You know where this post is leading, don’t you? I have a new piece over at North American Review, some thoughts on the confessional and the personal.
In other worlds, tomorrow is National Put a Poem In Your Pocket Day. I’m not sure what poem I will put in my pocket tomorrow, but today, as I think about destruction and cultures of violence and closeness, I have Muriel Rukeyser in my pocket.