doing
lately, i've been trying to postulate the answer such questions: why write my thoughts in an ephemeral medium such as this?

i mean... the "net" (i'm so cool) is full of ppl who try to write prose about the mundane, comedy for derision, tragedy in the absurd... and all that... it's so done. finished. the novelty is worn to a nub. (i talk in lists).

is there such a desperation for understanding that ppl do this? hah. instead, can it be a truth in the cliche about people being desperate for their mark in history... not for a page number-line number mention per se, rather a mere asterisk-footnote action.

the current modern writer/artist/thinker/creator/etc/etc/person is tormented by these kinda thoughts... which all eventually leads to the final query: why do? do i turn away from the quixote and run to the pragmate (sic)?

... so ... in my current mindframe this is my hypothesis. questions such as these arise when the thinker is lazy. it's a luxurious thought in this respect. this thought is not delineated by status; a begger can be just as lazy as a pro golfer. it is more common to see the partition made culturally. a hungry father in etheopia *should* worry for his family, whereas we americans and the rest of the industrialized world often find ourselves in this mire. so my answer to the laziness... pray for a swift kick in the arse so you can see your blessing wasting away before it's too late.

it's 3:26am. i'm tired. there's so many holes in the logic already. this entry shouldn't be here. i should write an essay about this and a possible chrisitan perspective (i'm actually running into a wall trying to view this w/ a christian pov). my rhetoric and lexicon is waning.