I Twitter.
No seriously, you should think about it.
I'm a verbose prose-r. I know this. We all know this. So the fact that I am consistently limited to 140 characters means, five or six times an hours, I EDIT THE HELL OUTTA MYSELF.
A unique experience, that. But, edifying. In a completely, utterly "holy blankity-blank blank blank I hate this"sort of way.
Yes. Edifying.
So I think you should join me. We can lurk around the edges of lit mags, and send late night messages to authors great than ourselves. We can whine about our day, and since no follows us anyways, no one knows what you say. Which means, that user over there, the one in the ratty beret with tacky dangling modifiers? WE CAN TOTALLY TALK ABOUT HIM AND HE'LL NEVER EVEN KNOW.
The dark side, we haz it. And, you know, cookies. Maybe you should think about it.
Write Now:
What I'm listening to: Nufin. It's past my bedtime.
What I want most: sleep, then Jamba Juice. I dream of breakfast.
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