All the writing I've done in my life, placed 'end to end', would reach the moon.....but that was never an intentional destination.......There's never been a destination in my mind......I guess that's why my avalanche of verbiage never really went anywhere....strings of words are like pencil and ink drawings....they go where they go, often with no intention whatsoever......then another sheet of media begins the journey anew....Eventually, and hopefully, a map appears, in retrospect.....but the map is but a labyrinth from the unconscious to the realizable......So, burn after reading....or just file it all away for some academic scholar who may spend a lifetime assembling, reassembling and projecting meaning upon all this jargon.........It's all in the margins, after all......waiting for the reweave on NPR, in an interview with yet another academic writer, in a morning interview, with hopes...and copious footnotes....promoting their "Lives Of Others" posturing to the Drugstore's 'best sellers' rack, next to the cash registers...
