In which I attempt to advance my English writing skills from poor to mediocre.
Everything I say is, by definition, a promise
Published on May 8, 2004 By dreamtime iliaster In Welcome
Since I’m a computer geek (an engineer, no less) I’m not much of a writer. That’s my excuse, anyway. As a child, making hen scratchings on processed wood pulp using a wooden stick seemed bizarre to me; almost cannibalistic. I was a conscientious objector. A product of the American education system, I had no writing classes past middle school and managed to avoid anything involving writing in college.

Now that I’m out of college I don’t have time to take a writing course but I find myself having to write (as if my hen scratchings qualify as writing) constantly. In theory, writing regularly on this blog should help to improve my writing. In reality, I’ll probably quit after a week, leaving behind an abandoned warehouse of a blog with five incoherent, unrelated, posts. This is my attempt to forestall that. I’m going to keep at this for at least a year. There. I’ve said it. Now I can’t quit.

Comments
on May 14, 2004
I know what you mean. I cannot believe the wierd shit that I've come up with here. The ones I hate the worst though are the controversial ones I whore myself for for points. The ones I like best like the blank computer screen one or the roadside park sex story drew the least attention. But what I decided is: Who am I doing this for anyway? 'course I won't bitch if you stop by my place and leave a few, er, uhh....points! Hang in there and do your own thing,man!