An English In Kentucky


















 Sunday November 23rd 2014 Tim Candler


    I might have rambled a little yesterday. Indeed I know I rambled more than somewhat yesterday. Entirely possible I made no sense at all. And the sad thing is I know why I rambled. The first reason is a Fly or a Lady Bird seems to have got itself trapped inside the technical device. It buzzes now and then. It's the kind of noise that suggests an imminent technical device collapse, followed by "Why didn't I back anything up?"

     The second reason has to do with joining The Borg. A poor solution to the problem of belonging. And it seems to me the joy of writing, the pleasure of it, the thrill of words, the exploration, the roller coaster is often shot to hell by The Borg. I'm older of course, a small Star Trek fan. And in my mind The Borg is grammar, semi-colons, genres and the sound of dreams being sucked into the vortex of commerce, book covers, platforms, reviews and the passion to be noticed. You can call it craft if you want to, but I wonder where such obedience ends.



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