Jorn’s at it again. And yes, Jorn, I know that you have a technorati bot plus about nine others that will grind to life and spit sparks at the mention of your name in the blogosphere. I’m cool with that if you are. And I know you are because this is all so hopeless(ful)ly meta.

I just emailed a friend of mine to say that Jorn’s Robot Wisdom Auxillary reminds me a lot of the stuff that used to pass between two desperately grasping teens/20-somethings as we wrote (dot-matrix printed) 30-page letters (remember, before there was a universal medium for these things?) back and forth to each other or drove around for hours at a time on 88-cent gas and 89-cent Slurpees debating… well, everything. And that’s a compliment. Because if you can channel and harness and maintain (give me the strength, please) that level of both angst and focus, such that I compare you to a couple of (meaning two, in a dialog) smart, pissed-off, non-conformist, confused-to-the-point-of-immobility/-drastic-action guys debating the fabric of reality and the continua of existence then, dude, that’s props.

First we have the layers of identity. Anyone who blogs has to experience this. Who will read this? Who will link to it? What will they think? Have I stirred up some shit here or merely stirred the pot, or worse been pedestrian, cliched? In what way will this validate me and prove/justify/challenge my existence? It’s like a Murakami novel.

And that’s just the primer. Because then we have “The idealism crushers,” which by its very name taps into a deep well of revolutionary spirit. Even the URL is uniquely reactionary. You can’t not be pissed at these people, whoever they are. Because it doesn’t matter what “your” or “their” (I know, quoting pronouns, so 70s) ideals (and talking about “ideals?” get me a VW minibus!) are, crushing ideals equals not good.

What’s really amazing is that this blog is always in non-prose format, which would tend to make me think “inaccessible.” But there’s a certain usability, and even charm, to hitting return as punctuation. Which is one of the keys to reading actual poetry that they never explain. The line breaks are intentional! Intentional, as in “with intent,” as in they have meaning. Like everything else. It’s called writing, folks, and it’s meant to manipulate you. Like everything else. Revel in the body, sister.

Oh, and as far as “The Stalking Expert” I have two googlebots that trigger daily: Arthur C. Clarke and Bruce Sterling. What does that say? About me? About us? (That’s “us” to “you.”)

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btw, concocted with Writely. Why even have an OS/file system/computer at this point?