an apologia
Gentle faithless reader—
Some of you haven’t heard from us since college, grad school, or even as long ago as days of yore and yesteryear. Some of you have never met us. Some of you don’t remember us. Some of you just wish you didn’t remember us. Probably a great many of you have given up on ever hearing from us again because we are officially the world’s worst stayer-in-toucher. Some of you stopped wading through this message several sentences ago. Some of you are penguins.
Okay, that was just to see if you were paying attention.
But if you’re bored with your current literary options and are up for a daily onslaught of verbiage from an undistinguished corner of the web, visit the rotating cast of characters at the Unreliable Narrator. Since your author is disreputable, mercurial to say nothing of downright meretricious and just generally, well, not someone you’d want your daughter to go out with—don’t expect too much in the way of genuine fact-checked reportage.
If on the other hand you might find compelling the misadventures of an inconstant gardener 
toiling in the fields of prose, self-absorption elevated to an art form, occasional verbal pyrotechnics and blurry cellphone photography,—seek no further, thou hast arrived, enter into the kingdom of hypergraphia. Bringing you all the news that’s fit to mistrust, we post daily on topics ranging from “that tournament of hunchbacks, literature” to what it’s like being mentally interesting and medicated for same; ongoing adventures of cohabitation with the Brujo and our horribly behaved black-haired cat and dog; outstanding examples of Angrish, Engrish, Spanglish and just anguished English; strange links of geekly goofy general interest; “Friday Refrains,” a weekly selection of reasonably unusual lyric; depressing factoids about college-town life in the armpit of Arizona; and an unhealthy obsession with Firefly, Harry Potter and maguro nigiri.
Like Earth, the Unnarrator is mostly harmless. Or, in the words of AA Milne, it resembles “a great enormous thing, like—like nothing. A huge big—well, like a—I don’t know—like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.” Whether you find the Un unintentionally hilarious or an irritatingly paltry excuse for a personal letter, we hope you’ll be diverted and amused—and we hope you’ll tell your friends, because there’s nothing like word-of-mouth and buzz in general as a widely recognized substitution for quality product.
Yours in flagrant perfidy, the Unnarrator
• the unreliable narrator •
proud holder of the “world’s worst
correspondent” title since 1991!
3 cookies in the jar
post your glowing encomium (or bitter philippic) »
Follow this heated, lively discussion through its very own feed; also, you can pingback or trackback from your own doubtlessly much more interesting site.
Unnarrator? This is a great site!
I had to look up encomium. My encomium: absolutely brilliant site!
I found the blog through a comment on another blog, and wound up staying for over an hour. Does this count as an encomium?
Interesting fact: an astonishing number of blogs I end up liking have unhealthy obsessions with Firefly.
•
Obtrusive Editor: Yay for encomia, and a most hearty welcome to our blog-shaped object! I’m bookmarking yours for when the DSL works again, but in the meantime have already laughed aloud about the Indonesian peasants and their non-renewable pebbles (very attractive pebbles to be sure, but I absolutely and indignantly take your point. Why, I have some fine pebbles right here in Arizona I would have given them for free). I was born in Dallas myself, as it happens, and briefly attended University of Same…looking forward to reading more about your renovations and meditations.
And, for the record, she said nervously, my unhealthy obsession with Firefly ended when I recovered from the Worst Breakup Ever, ca. 2006. All that remains is a tendency to quote Wash from time to time (”gross and corpsified”) and a lingering affection for Nathan Fillion in jodhpurs.