Writing

Silence

One thing is certain: From a purely self-interested perspective, 25 year-old me would not recognize 39 year-old me.

A Prayer

It is unwise to take the majority of my song lyrics seriously, which is to say, as fact. More often than not, I would get inspired to write something that ends up as the chorus, and then I worked backwards from there to flesh out the story I wanted to tell or the feeling I wanted to convey. I could say that I am first and foremost a liar of a songwriter, but I like to think it's an outlet to explore empathy.

Arguing for My Limitations

Confidential to anyone who cares: I will not be participating in the PBW eBook Challenge this year.

Now for the extended dance remix of the above:

Snippets 8

Some things were never meant to be articles:

I Write Because I Must, and I'm Not Shutting Up

by Ethan Johnson
August 20, 2006

My journals from the 90's

The Gospel of Dave Rogers:

    Technology changes how we do things, not what we do.

I concur. The above photo, and this article, will serve as Exhibit A.

Who Are You Going to Please With That Thing?

Why are Marlena and I maintaining this site? Why are we bothering to write long-form articles about stuff that may only interest us and five other people? Who are we trying to impress? What are we trying to prove? What is the goal?

My 1994 Journal

by Ethan Johnson
March 9, 2001

I recently took a notion to take my old journals off the shelf and thumb through them. I remember being fairly regular with my writing, and I thought that it might be too soon to read them now, when not 10 years have passed since I last laid eyes upon their pages. I have only one thing to say now that I have re-read some of them:

Come back, Jason Kottke, all is forgiven.

The picture that emerged from these hardbound pages is this: I was an angry, adrift, opinionated 24 year-old. In fact, the "old me" was so startling that it's overwhelming to even begin counting the ways that my life, and most importantly, my outlook about it has changed. In 1994, I was working a dead-end job as the de facto head of one of the returns departments for Panasonic in Elgin IL making $8 an hour. And it is here, on April 5, 1994, 7 days prior to quitting my job and going to school in Ohio, that the following entry was written:

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