little bit of dirt mixed with tears
Friday 9 November 2001 | I like a cookie
Okay. This is still an experiment and I’m still grouchy—mostly due to my job, which takes up time I’d rather spend, you know, wasting on the web. But for all its drawbacks I intend to blog away until the first of the year—a nice symmetrical year: 2002. At which time if I’m still taking this seriously, adding some html, graphics, blah blah, then I’ll keep it, and spend the flipping $12 to get a page with no ugly banner ad. And take it from there. M. pointed out that blogging is pretty old by now—since 1998 is, in Internet years, a century ago. I agreed but said I was still interested. Basically, it’s a way to maintain a simulacrum of creativity in my blasted uber-professional excuse for an artist’s life. And that, my friends, is no small thing.
Better get offline now, as aforementioned M. will ring me for a lift from his place of work, the Santa Fe Institute. See if you can find Dr. Ian Malcolm’s page (hint: ~imalcolm), if they haven’t taken it down, which is more fun than a teething baby velociraptor. “Clever girl….”
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