I like pseudonyms. I like them in much the same way that I like changing my site design around for no good reason, or changing my clothes – it’s all a part of playing with image, I think, and image is a fun game. My scattershot approach to online identity politics hasn’t been the most efficient means of branding myself, but so what? I’m not out to establish myself and make money, even though I do have £2.03 sitting in my amazon.co.uk associate’s account.
Hmm. There was a rant hiding in there somewhere yesterday, sprung from the bosom of a thread in hesitant firmness, all about whether or not I consider each of my pseudonyms to have a distinct personality, but I’ve just worked myself into a distraction by introducing the clothes analogy. Now I’m thinking about socks, and warm woolen tights that have bright patterns on them, and funny hats, and other ways to winterize my wardrobe. Also about the fact that in a box somewhere, I think it’s in California, I own a tie-dyed union suit, complete with the butt-flap, that I wore to class sometimes last year. I always felt bright and happy wandering around inside it. I think if I wore it around Copenhagen, though, I would not only freeze my ass off but I would feel quite awkward while doing so – people here seem to almost uniformly go for this muted, sophisticated, solid-color look, and it’s quite nice from any mature fashionista perspective but it never makes small children giggle.
Now I should flog myself a bit for making two English errors: I just split an infinitive, and yesterday I improperly pluralized the Euro. Of course, infinitive-splitting is a perfectly acceptable practice if you’re not trying to impose Latin grammar on the universe, and only an idiot would seriously think that “one euro, two euro” would ever make it into common usage. But I did want to use the word flog.
I should go to bed.