Sunday, August 20, 2006

Not One...But THREE

Discerning viewers will notice not one...but THREE brand spanking new articles you ain't never seen before (if'n I haven't vainly foisted a link upon thee already). They're over yonder in the RECENT BROADSIDES section. Give 'em a looksee if you're so inclined. Maybe a morsel of feedback or a miffed-off request for clarification will get us all talking and geeked.
The first one features my doctored image in a haze of importantness. Sarah says my hair looks all poofey. Perhaps she's right.


mister tumnus said...

i have a question for you mister writer (and for you too, ms writer-extraordinarre).

where is it that you (we?) can begin to write what we hope to be true about truth and god, guilt and love(and all that stuff) when the very hope of it confronts us with what we know is true about ourselves; mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...

I suppose that there is no other way to come to writing, as a sort of communion exercise, 'we come to the table...we do not presume'. But i think it's hard to get my head round it somehow. The words have to point away and 'out' from my self and yet, they only are my-self (what else?). Bummer. (Bummer?)

Do you have any idea what I'm going on about?! It's something I find pretty frightening I think. In my best efforts I would not want anyone to look at me and think I know anything (like, really), and yet proclaiming to know less is to simultaneously acknowledege the experience of something.

mister tumnus said...

Pee Ess. Does 'poofey' mean 'gay' in America? It does in the UK. Although I am not sure what gay hair might look like.

jdaviddark said...

i think i follow you, mr. tumnus. that dostoevsky quote "each is guilty before all and for all...i more than all" has to be the starting point for all verbiage (even if we don't always open aloud with that particular mantra). AND THEN accepting the testimony of people who say "you're words help me" actually count. sometimes, it seems that my spouse is the only one i'll actively believe on this particular subject. the least i can do is believe.
weirdly and pitifully, joining the blogosphere appears to be, among other things, one method i've recently concocted to get myself motivated to write more. poor poor pitiful me.
"poofey" does not mean "gay" in the god-blessed, christ-haunted USofA. but, come to think of it, i once knew that it meant as much in UK parlance. i use to giggle over that word with a british housemate of mine on the french riviera. tee-hee.

glad to be talking, tumnus.