Monday, January 18, 2010


Maybe I can assauge my luddite conscience if I print out the blog and roll it up like an ancient scroll. Yeah.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Hey! I could be Thomas Merton!

That's the ticket! He was Trappist and wrote constantly! Aren't Trappists pretty much luddites anyway? The "veggie loving--human work loving--technology averse" all for the authentic life type? With all the travel and engagement at the end of his life--you know Thomas Merton would have a blog.

Then again, maybe I could be the first Amish blogger. Hmmmm. Could I blog in Pennsylvania Dutch? Would that assuage my conscience?

Monday, January 11, 2010

The terror of the blank page, obliterated

I will not call myself a recovering luddite, yet, but I can admit one useful piece about a blog.

When I cannot think of anything to write, I can go


in four seconds with a sensitive keyboard.

Pity that such obscene, technology-enabled shortcuts make me want to vomit. I still hate myself.


must. gfuyiwgbvi stop. huirowgvhir

Sunday, January 10, 2010

My candlestick burned my book.

Curses! After felling an oak tree and chopping it into bits for winter warmth, I lit my candle and went to the kitchen to retrieve some refreshment. My candle fell on Remembrance of Things Past, and well, the book is indeed remembered and past. I loved that book. (sob)

It was probably my first foray on to the slippery slope oif my life, buying a book from a printing press. First the press, now the computer...I feel my connection to the natural world sifting through my fingers like ashes. Specifically, the ashes of my now destroyed book.

But why am I writing this on a blog? Why? What weakness! I am a worm, without hope.

But I'm a worm with a blog that doesn't burn in candlelight.

Augh!!! Away!

Ooh! Green on Black! Must. stop.

You know, I spent years perfecting my cursive lettering, and now I am taken in by light green Georgia font. I am such a sell-out. Curse you, Blogspot!

But... it looks so dang pretty....

No! I must go and chop some wood for my wood stove, light a candle, and read some Proust. Begone, evil computer tempter!

I Hate Myself.

What am I doing? I am bending to technologies' whim like a siren. This is painful. I miss my pencil. I miss my paper. The keyboard is hurting my fingertips in unnatural ways. Must. stop. blogging.