{ my ongoing refusal to co-operate with currently established 'blogging' protocol continues with this mild screed:
better minds than mine have pointed to at and near this backlit conglomeration of information and held speech. and compared it often to the neural pathways of corporeal existence. so imagine the nerve cells each one insisting on trademark and acknowledgement, and each cell having to feed itself, and each cell insisting on its own viability as at least equal to, if not more important than, the larger contextual body. Jorn Barger is being shunned I think. I'm not real interested in why. we are all of us standing on a thousand different precipices (precipici?) at the same moment, I mean each of us has a thousand ways to fall. one of those ways that seems the brightest, the most colorful, that holds for me the most promise, would put us closer to the body's cell, in sacrifice, in purpose, in selfless humility. which is a verbose and stilted attempt at excusing myself for not doing all that linking via thanks to and what was that? blogaversary? us-and-them horseshit. because the hour is late and I don't care that much how much of what I've done is known or lost. it's the thing itself that matters most. all else is a far and unimportant second.}
