Mikarrhea

I just felt like writing. I'm sitting in bed with all lights out, wearing a monstrous home-made body cast and being irradiated into headache by the ridiculous brightness of my iBook. So why not start a blog!--if I can keep my hands close enough together to type effectively. I always used to be dubious about, but just now I'm beginning to see some virtue in, those misshapen ergonomic keyboards where the left- and right-hand keys are separated, pitched, and angled, to make it easier to type. Actually what would be easiest for me at this moment would be two entirely disocciated keyboards each shaped more or less, sized more or less--and, well, why not--feeling more or less, like a cat's body, soft, furry, one on each side of my legs, purring. Nobody said keyboards had to be hard and flat and just go tic tic tic.

I'd read blogs idly before, but never with much attention. They seemed to me just another version of reality tv, which I simply don't get. I mean, why would you want to be reminded that people like that even exist, let alone waste time watching what they say and do? The blogs I spent any time with were the right-wing ones like Andrew Sullivan's, because they would always get a rise out of me, and I frankly still have a hard time believing those guys are for real. Which, now that I think of it, is probably why people watch reality tv mostly . . . .

Anyway, being late in discovering things, on the safety edge of the aprés garde, I got hooked into friendster just this week (same story: invited ages ago, but stupidly thought, "Stupid"), and started clicking through lives out there and finally starting to read those people's blogs and finally ended up bouncing around the wide poetryblog landscape for an afternoon, from which I've returned a changed woman. Who knew all that was out there? Some of those guys are so fucking deliciously pompous and self-absorbed!!!!! Finally, IT'S REALITY TV WITH MILLIONS OF INTELLECTUALS!!! Which, thankfully, is consumed in the form of words--not that i've got anything against images & sounds, mind you, it's just seeing those appalling tv hairdos-with-voices that sound like a conclave of skiboarders on blackboards booming down a mountain of chalk-----blecccch.