once upon a time I used to kind of blog sort of. after I started splitting my infinitives with abandon. before that I hatched and hosted, erected and let crumble web pages. before that and after that were poems and then not any poems any more. maybe someday. here and there essays unwound, and the odd boil-infested academic paper worked itself up. lo, of yore the right hand alone scribbled letters on paper of different heft and hue, the graph, the blue and oniony, the soft creamy cotton rag. spirals unto infinity of narrow-rule close writ. and then email and email and email ad nauseum. oh microbloggery facebook puffs.
looking in and looking out
I'm cuckoo for facebook puffs…
You have a way with words, lady. :)
yup.
yes. you should be tied to a typewriter and forced to write again. or bribed with gin. 200 words gets you a croissant. 500, a chicken leg.
I was on FB and Twitter before Vox but never really used them til I got playing stoopid games on FB.
I just want you to post another audio clip of you reading something. I think I've heard only one and I thought telling you how much I liked your voice would prompt you to post another, but no such luck. I remember it being so very soothing.
I'd like to hear her read childrens books. Like Richard Scarry's, What Do People Do All Day. I got a copy I can send you if you don't have your own. It's the most awesomest book in the whole world.
Ha! I'm not the only one!
Or the Doctor Seuss, If I Ran the Circus… Yeah…
ah. there you are.
i feel better now.