Writing: 2

I edited my profile. It had been viewed 8 times. I found that I had viewed it 7 times, so a cucaracha must have stumbled on a idle mouse somewhere and pressed View. It's rather small for a profile. Let's call it a snippet, a tatter, a patchwork, a gumbo file of personal history. I have no pictures here. I mean, its rather like one of those immense white rooms with astronomical windows that people who are rich & clueless have in their houses: something like those scenes from the Matrix where Morpheus sits in an armchair and the floor, walls, and ceilings are white, white, white - accentuated by his rich mahogany skin. But I do not do pictures well. Writing is difficult enough. I have come across blogs by people who bemoan their lack of writing ability in prose that makes me want to cry in envy. Then they say they think they'll put up some pictures to cheer up the old blogstead. And there stands my blog like some monument to the 21st Maine or the 32nd Pennsylvania, classic and marmoreal, but lacking that little touch of Bella Abzug that makes you think of home and hearth and a warm kitchen with fresh blintzes. writing 1