A malamute lives in the apartment upstairs from me. It's big and cute, but not very mute. He howls when his master is gone, which woke me up about 11:30 p.m, so i tried to go back to sleep, but then my "ex-girlfriend" phoned around midnight (which is why she's my e-g. That and what she said.) So I got up and wrote one of these blogs in order to "jump start" my website instead of remaining in bed and trying to get to sleep.
On a more CARBONDALEY topic, my book "A Month of Sundays" about houses of worship in Carbondale has been accepted by Shawnee e-Books for Spring publication. Since
What about the CITY ELECTIONS! I've got to come out for
Chris Wissman hasn't replied either, after taking "a gander" at the Shawnee Network website. Of course I also let him have a peek at a poem I wrote on a very non-Carbondaley topic, i.e. Shakespere, so I haven't heard back from him about my request for a meeting. I guess he doesn't want to meet me. Since he's the editor of Carbondale Nightlife he might perceive me as a threat instead of a colleague or comrade-in-words.
Ours in age of "comperation" or "coompetition" unlike any other before in history (to my knowledge). The collective consciousness of the human race is being uploaded onto mainframes around the world. We humans are headed for ex-thinkshun. We think therefore we are. We are what we think.
Brings to mind "A Canticle for Leibowitz" but I don't remember much of the plot anymore. I guess I click the mouse a few times and stroke the keys and vwahlah.
This post including typos is copyright 2002 by Shawnee Network
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