I’m starting this thing because I really want to begin an exodus into my own mind and what makes me tick. I get the sense that there’s a lot of things that exist in my mind ethereally and this’ll really give me a chance to turn those clouds of thought into the brick and mortar of the written word.
The title of this blog, Finches, Once Again is drawn from the book Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s not actually a line from the novel or anything, but from my overall feel from the book after I read it.
See, the basic story of the novel is that all of humanity was wiped out by a nuclear war except for a boat of tourists heading to the Galapagos Islands. The narrator, a ghost who chose to stay behind and see what happens to humanity, watches as these humans evolve/devolve into birds that aren’t actualized and are solely focused on the animalistic.
After reading it, I couldn’t help but think of all the other birds on the island: the myriad finches and the overall diversity of the ecosystem. From there, I came to the conclusion that everything on the Galapagos Islands may’ve been descendants of all the previous races of humans, brought to islands by chance and devolved toward the purity of need.
So it’s a back-to-basics type of concept. I’m gonna try’n keep things simple the best that I can. I have every intention of not trying to over-think things and to express myself as simply as possible.
The Faulkner quote comes from Absalom, Absalom!, the prequel to Quentin Compson’s section of the Sound and the Fury. It explores all of the things that were thrust upon him and that caused him to kill himself after his first year at Harvard. How he can’t fathom the circumstances of the denegration of the South he grew up in, the South that came before him, and the North that makes fun of him.
I’m gonna do my damndest to post as much as I can, and I really hope you enjoy it.