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Saturday, December 31, 2005

Ok, I'll admit it. I will never be anything but a dilitante at blogging. I am too busy doing too many other things, useful and useless. According to my favorite philosopher Chuang Tzu, most people know the use of the useful but few know the use of the useless. Stick that one in your backyard and plant it. It's your fault if you expect it to grow, however. Just leave it there. Stop fussing.

Today, I came across an experimental novel-in-progress: -- An experimental novel based on the Moscow Metro. One chapter of the novel will be published each day until the entire 171 chapters are available online. The reader may access the chapters in any order, just as a passenger can descend into the Metro via any station. Once inside you can go wherever you want. Please feel free to leave a comment. So I left a comment that could expand the dimensions of the novel to include my fictional character, if the author Paul Rowland chooses to include her occasional excerpts. I think at least I should name her: Dimity.

Maybe I should start a collaborative novel (I use the term "novel" loosely) here.

If you happen to drop by, tell me what you think?

So here it is the last day of another dismal year for the human race and a bunch of creatures on the brink of extinction. As usual, I will not be going to Times Square to scream like crazy as the ball falls.

I'll be back soon, I think.


cb smith said...

I comment the comment that is a comment of the comment. No comment.

cb smith said...

Boots are pistols
And Carmen Electra
Little shops closed for an afternoon fling
Large breasted gooey women
Slavering tongues
Who love the dying rain skimming across my boots
Where the blood of pain’s quarter is dripping in foam
Some have the powder
Some have the lick
It’s life I despise where boots no longer click

I’m leaning on the horizon
Setting sun burning my head
And I wonder
What mindless fuck put it there
Like a scorpion under my thumbnail
Just another tether to burn
It’s flame a discordant bitter blue
Who, what, where the fuck are you
Life that allows this hurt that was her leaving