The Blog of the Dewy Red

Dearg Druchtach's "joint" (as the young people say)
AUGUST 18, 2011 11:28AM

She breathes, she walks . . . .

Rate: 4 Flag

And who cares?  Well, she does, at least at times.  The odd other person as well.  Very odd.

Months pass.  It never seems they should, yet they do.  Such a calm thing, time.  Completely unperturbed at our concern for it, its going.

My life, as one says dramatically, is changing.  I am increasingly uneasy with the way in which so many of us document such things in their minutiae on the 'net, but of course I am as compulsive about this, in my way, as anyone else who has ever thought it a good idea to write a blog entry, or anything like it.  So I will be doing that over the next week.

Even the fact that I am announcing this makes me laugh.  Really, who cares?  Some of the good, indulgent people here may do, and that is kind.  But of course in the ultimate solipsism that is the internet, we do these things for ourselves.  This is why we're so often genuinely surprised, and moved, when others speak to us about it, supportively, softly, even lovingly.

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Comments

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Good to read you again, it's been a while. Looking forward to your posts.
Rated.
I wonder what Anais Nin would have made of this Internet business, or for that matter Colette, Woolf or Yeats?

In the end, it matters not - technology tromps on. I, too, am grateful for the warm word, the soft smile, the acknowledgement of being seen, occasionally heard and sometimes -- rare -- even understood.

Your prose is lovely. Rated (I just myself discovered what this means. )