A sometimes half-arsed record of the process of writing in its' variegated many forms.
- A reminiscence
- stylistics, bravery, tapioca
- It's beyond time
- I'm checking in, I'm checking out
- Self help book for the slightly inebriated
- detached irony
- Where it's at
- satiated and still not satisfied
- Editorializing for a cup of tea
- Choral structures, Coffee split, and other tidbits...
- Eddie the Grouch
- period of the zygote
- ▼ 02 (13)
Monday, February 4, 2008
Oh, to be wholeheartedly bombastic; it is the joy of life. Perhaps that's a bit of an overstatement, but that's entirely keeping with the spirit of the bombast. To be bloated and ugly with the malformations of uninhibited statements of questionable factuality, that is what it means to be really getting out there and digging into the heart of wide world of web-based anonymity. Making potentially damaging claims that can't be backed up but can't be disproved either, that's a skill worth pursuing, and an undoubted money-making venture. No, I kid because, well, for no reason other than the continuing movement of my fingers along the sleek and sliding keys of the board. I felt the need to share.
Posted by The Brown Dog Affair at 9:07 AM