Friday, November 19, 2004

So I'm mouldy/moldy/stinky cheese . . .

Let the BLOG match the rotted, stinking shell of a soul inside of me. I say, let the fungus fly!

What you apparently creative wonders don't understand is that more often than not I'm beset by feelings I either don't care to divulge in the stark nudity of cyberspace, or that almost make breathing, let alone producing any writing worthy of wonderment excruciating.

And if I can't amaze at the very least myself (w/ the low standards for which I'm famous, at least to my professors) then I don't care to "embark."

Was it Goethe? No, couldn't be . . . Eh . . . Well, anyway I THINK it was Goethe that said, "Anything you can do or dream you can . . . begin it."

I'm done with the loftiest dreaming for now, and perhaps for a while. I'll settle for the whimsy of the worlds I've got made up in my head.

So if I don't write, my sincerest apologies to those for whom it matters sufficient to call my BLOG "mouldy."


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