LOST IN SPACE

Lately, I've tried to sign up and get a web page with Myspace, the hottest thing going on the American scene. Also, I've been using my profile page on Blogspot to search for people who like the same books, movies, ideas and etcetera that I do.

Here's my conclusion. All this blather and information on the internet will be the death of meaningful language. It's worse than the time I realized that there were thousands of writers vying for spots in the publishing market, that I was just a little blob mixed in the larger blob. On the internet it's even more frustrating. So many people blathering stuff into the internetair. Many useful things, but who has time to stop and read while one is so busy searching a "library" which is chaotically organized and a phone book so full of people one might find.

I came across essays by the famous dead and essays by living nobodies and references to music I ought to hear—on and on ad nauseam. Then, I realized, as I tried to read an essay by John Sturt Mill that someone had pasted onto his blogsite, that I didn't, at the moment, have the patience to stop and read that essay because I had to hurry up and find the next spot, the next interesting picture, the next facile comment, the next, the next, the next . . . . It's addictive in here and the grass in the backyard needs mowing, but I've got to get on with blogging and searching websites and blogging some more and, and and an a ?