Every time i get up from my massive green lawnchair to go anywhere i am treated soon thereafter to a massive electric shock, regardless of what it is i touch. Cd shelf, doorknob, lightswitch, speaker.
I Am All Charged Up.
thoughts
You know, maybe this says a little bit too much about me, but the sheer act of someone putting an effort into paying attention to me despite all outward attempts to avoid attention on my part can really make my day.
I love letting you try to figure this stuff out, honestly, i do.
I am blogging from my home computer.
I am blogging from a DSL connection.
I am blogging while streaming my favourite Peter Mulvey song. In surround sound.
I do believe my technological life just experienced a much-deserved upgrade.
Improvements to my personal life still forthcoming…
I sure can say a lot while avoiding saying what’s on my mind.
I figure if i keep interspersing these short ones, the longer ones won’t seem so bad ;)
I could just keep writing.
Do you remember when it used to be like that? Just me and the computer, and no obsessiveness about readability or narrative voice or spacing out my posts? Just me and my unending stream of consciousness? It’s so different now… now i am worried that this will mean that you’re not reading the things i spent time on. Quality. I never used to have a concept of quality, just a concept of what i wanted to say. Now i let posts languish on the main page for a day at a time to make sure it’s good and read before the next one arrives — i want to increase the signal and decrease the noise. But, it doesn’t feel anything like i remember. Nothing like it at all.
How did i manage to forget what i wanted to say? Now writing an update every fifteen minutes, or even on the hour … it seems like insanity. I can type a lot of words in fifteen minutes, and i can hit publish a lot of times in an hour. I suppose i’m afraid that it’s not the sheer me of the writing that is interesting, but the time and careful effort that i put into it. I have become afraid to just say what i think. The crux of the matter is that i am looking for a different kind of recognition now, one that is very intrinsically linked to quality rather than to quantity. Only, maybe there was some quality to it, you know? Something right about just writing until i ran out of thoughts of things to say.
I don’t really remember what my life was like fifteen months ago; i can’t remember how it felt day to day. But, the words are all there, to prove that it happened. So, i suppose i just want to prove that this is happening, you know?