Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Sometimes I Feel like a Cheddar-less Mild

Lately, I feel like my whole world has collapsed into this little, 2-D webspace.

I mean, I have lots of nice stuff, but it's all crammed in boxes, heaped in piles, and stashed in crannies and basements, and I can't really enjoy any of it. I'm living a compressed lifestyle, with very little space at my disposal. I guess prisoners live this way, only with less stuff around. Thank God for my cat, for whom everything is just landscape. A stack of priceless comic books is the same as a pile of dirty old laundry to him, although I'm pretty sure that cat treats and his chewy toy comprise a distinct category of object to his feline sensibilities.

This frenetic weblogging of mine is actually a sort of science experiment. The obvious solution to my current predicament would be to simply find some form of employment and get myself a bigger living space. This, however, for various murky reasons that Dr. Phil would never understand, has proved impossible for me of late. So, instead, I'm trying to jam as much as my life and thought onto these digital pages as possible, moving far past the boundaries of what is meet, sane or even respectable.

Computer simulation of
the collapse of a blog.

And much like Allan Ginsberg, who sold his personal papers to a prominent university by the pound, and so augmented the parcels he sent by including random scraps of detritus: grocery lists, cancelled checks and retail receipts--much like this mad, visionary poet, I'm stuffing my blog posts with whatever I find at hand, whether it be of merely passing interest or no, to increase the gross density--if not the literary quality--of the blog.

What I'm hoping to create with all these words is a kind of critical mass, an ultra-dense singularity that will collapse upon itself to reveal a gateway to a whole new reality. Once the portal is secured, I will move myself, my accumulated treasures, and my beloved cat into this new realm, there to abide in peace and tranquility; and write my voluminous memories, which will eventually be made into a blockbuster film by Paramount.


Michael said...

Once you're moved in, will you have us over for a realm-warming party and dinner?

flatlander said...

Everyone who visis my realm will have to wear 3-D glasses in order to see properly.

Gyrobo said...

--==/ MOVING DAY! \==--

Non-Xister said...

So you think you can outflank the Xister, eh?

You may run to another dimension, Flatlander, but I will find you, and your little kitty too!

Mint Tea Mystic said...

I look forward to a dimension where even the most tragically uncoordinated can tear up the pavement.

I fall over just looking at skateboards.

Gyrobo said...

I imagine you have a huge box of skateboards.

flatlander said...

I only have about three skateboards in my "vintage" collection, and one board fit for road use. The rest end up going to the neighbourhood kids, who are always after old boards and parts.

But someday I will open a skateboard museum, where I will have wax replicas of pro skaters like Tony Hawk and Neil Blender. Or maybe they won't actually be made of wax....