I am perpetually haunted by the question of re-inventing my writing and blogging style, of what I can do online, or what my online presence and social media activism is capable of.
Everything that happens online can be expressed in verbs: blogging, posting, socializing, photo-blogging, podcasting, vlogging, writing, commenting, expressing, documenting, memorizing, exploring, inventing, publishing, communicating, expressing... The reader is caught in the pleasure of sensing the expressive limitations of words and pictures stretching from the sheer laws of communication.
Watching what occurs during the process of writing as the audience is confronted with the intricate modulations of qualities of rhythm of characters, density and intensity of content, texture of the story, tactility of the flow of words, and hopefully some visual elements which elicits pure joy for things that are to be found between the lines.
In this short story the material has been collected from various trash-cans and transformed into the aesthetics of lightweight performance without any clear goal or achievement. I am not targeting the reader, this is just test-run from a whimsical blogger in order to fueling new thoughts into this network.
Upwards one can reach, jump, climb or float, ideas can vanish, disappear, balloon, dissolve, stretch or be lifted. Downwards one can fall, sink, lunger or burrow. And drop, stop, sag, be pushed. There are no limits to what can be said of written. All great books have been written long ago, but life goes on and it's necessary to re-write and change all the stuff that has been created before.
That's a part of my work. To make the present and future visible and understandable.
