I miss card catalogs.

It just took me twenty fucking minutes to sign into my email account at comcast. Why? Because I couldn't find the button. There were so many bloody pictures and exclimation points and Hooey about god knows what, probably some celebrity's ass which got too big or something. But was there a button for email? Nope! Not where I could find it!

God I miss text. Just plain "whatcha lookin for? does that word ring a bell? why yes it does thank you" and it's all over and done with. But now everything got to be so bloody eye catching that all of it just washes over you as white noise.

I should have figured better trying to navigate through comcast's slushpile of nonsense, but I was just trying to log in and confirm my facebook account. Facebook! I swear for logging into that I'm going to have to take a week pennence and sit in a dirt hole with nothing more technologically advanced than a piece of string.


One of these days I'm going to finally throw in the towell and find a bomb shelter sealed away from new advances until I can finally wrap my head around how some dude just up and decided one day to record sound by dragging a bit of metal across wax. And yes, I'll be updating my blog from there.

Journal Trouble

I bought a literary journal in the hope to expand my horizons! I was dissapointed!

Why is it that everything I think might be a good fit for me because, hey it's a little weird, and I'm a little weird, and maybe this could be a beautiful friendship, I end up disgusted by how full of bologna they are?

"Oh we're so deep because we write about how crappy people are and how full of shit the world is and also we use words like shit and fuck because we're edgy."

God! I know how crappy people are and how full of shit the world can be. I live here, dammit, I know! But whatever happened to fiction trying to rise above the crap fest and celebrating the triumphs of life? Even writing horror (and sometimes especially writing horror) there has to be a bit of lightness for the reader to grasp onto, otherwise it just reads as pompous drivle.

I don't want to have to write only for children's mags just because I haven't lost all hope for humanity. Ah well. Maybe I've just been picking the wrong journals. God I hope so.



I have a feeling Canada is holding all my letters because I don't write in all caps... damn you Canada.