who needs the weekend paper when you can blog? narcissus swims between the look and the look back, lovely “me” and death by drowning.gossip hungers for other’s initimate details. blogs open more promises than people magazine, nearly there, hating the fact of representation. we’re thin cats at the door. we want hunter’s litter. we want the truth of punctuation. photographs grasp at souls, reproduction’s idiotic limits. fifteen minutes byte less for all social occasions. we’re clever. it feels real. we want love. community holds our precious moment, solidifying as it passes. i get something. what is it? i still show up. it’s easier on the body than -30, too much drink, long waits for taxicabs. you can edit. more certainly than talking.