Is this...possible? No, pretty sure it ain't.
She said that for the lover not the husband of letters--of journals--we put up with...errors. Husbands are loyal writers, they make sense, they comment upon how they are doing it.
What can I do about that--Sontag said it, after all. Jealous passionate rage--that sounds fine as an ingredient to this project, whatever it is. It comes out too fast. One cannot hold fast--one's heard of holding fast and this...
Doesn't work.
No, the distance's insufficient. I'm sitting right here. I am not the hero of consciousness, I see nothing but...boring stupidity droning on.
That's what will happen. Tell me again, we'll personalize...what would that look like if I of all writer-persons took it seriously? Just another blogger! Just another decentered soul digitized! What...the conversation is not real anymore? Not connected enough...no, just not smart and convinced, holding nothing at stake.
Yes?
An elephant has already walked out. Waiting to hear back from past journals, recognition from three of them ratifies the blog.
Terrified? Not sure? Bothered and quite ready to begin?
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