Monday, December 5, 2011


I can no longer think long enough
to create a well written piece of
blogliterature like I once was able
to wax. My life is a summary.
Minute (small) details. Incomplete.

It's a sad state.

Think back, I see why my substance-light
answers to the questions mom and dad
were asking me drove them bonkers at times.

They need details. I provided bread crumbs.
They desired loaves. I was well ahead of my
time and without the fancy contraptions tweeted
them to the best of my limited vocabulary.

Some promote this medium as a way to
practice the ability to be concise in getting
across a message.

I see it as a way (evidenced by many many tweeters)
of the futility of saying anything worth
"following" in such a limited amount of
character space.

Maybe I'm just becoming an aging fuddyduddy.

Or maybe, just maybe, we as a society are
promoting less communication disguised
as mass communication.

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