Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
In ten years if we'll look back on the botched blogging fetish with such sour nostalgia as we reminisce over such has beens as C.B. antenae's, 8-tracks and tube socks?