I wrote something about color, professors, pants and Max Ernst and now it's up on this super interesting site, This Recording.
Meanwhile, I looked through the archives of this blog last week and laughed myself silly with self-congratulatory...laughter, thankful to remember that, oh yeah, I am a writer and sometimes I write things that even I think are good. I had a long walk down memory lane and it was rosy and someone had swept all the half empty Pabst cans, cigarette butts, barf piles and half-used condoms under the bushes where I couldn't see them and I thought about how much fun I had on the internet then.
This is all to say that Facebook is a poor receptacle (tricky spelling) and that I'd like us all to go back to the blogs. Next I'll be asking to rig up tin can telephones between our houses or all of us move into the same building and fulfill my bohemian fantasies of living in the Chelsea Hotel in the 70's or stop paying rent and quit your job and learn how to can things, but I think I'm going back to blogs. Come back to the blogs with me?
None of it is a replacement for inthefleshfacetime, of course, but since I've been avoiding large social events ie: "readings of the season" or "not-to-be-missed" things and newsfeeds give me the fear, maybe this can be another way for us to interact. Or maybe I should quit with the instant gratification literary production and social interaction from afar bit.
Now I'm remembering the particular sociality of the blog. How I would talk to you, the ones I know, and to everyone at once; not knowing who might read this. Is that the definition of the lyric "you"? If it is, then maybe you can agree to consider me as the lyric "I". Me, everyone and no one all at once. You don't need to think of me as real. I could just be a writer to you. I would like that.
All this being said, I'll be posting a link to this blog on my Facebook wall, which I still haven't had the guts to disable.
Here's to the internet and here's to it's destruction. May the underground doppleganger internet flourish, expand and supplant the old when the lights go out and the oil goes bad.