Probemos esta cosa.
A sea otter's life in a land-locked glen. Which way to the sea?, I ask thee. My home beckons. The sound of the waves on the surf, they carry me. Alas, 'tis but a dream. The sea is naught, and I am adrift. 'O wretched man that I am!' Who shall rescue me from this body of death?'
My brain on the web...
I thought this might be a good exercise. Nothing scares me more than a blank page I have to fill.. and Im supposed to do this for a living. Of late Ive found a way to handle that fear. And that is by procrastinating. Enough! Discipline is what I need. I hereby resolve--with the help of the muses Calliope, Clio, Erato, Moe, Larry, and Curly--to confront my fears and put pen to paper, so to speak, and start a web log to record my musings, fusings, perusings, abusings, and whathaveyousings. For me. Not for posterity. That is too much to ask from a website in a world where the next dotcom bust is always upon us.
Now then, my first post. Parables is what you should take all subsequent posts as. ("Yoda? Is that you?" No! He's in the next blog. Leave me alone.) Parables, so seeing you may see, and perceive not; and hearing, you may hear, and understand not. Ive got people to protect; mostly me. So onward!