Tuesday, November 29, 2005
I'm wondering who this picture took...
Everything is hazy. You can see in this picture how hazy things are. This picture was taken in 2004 but I forgot who took it. I do remember that I wondered why in the world life is so obscure, when the picture was shot.
I don’t know where to go today. I talked to a beautiful voice on Skype. Even during that conversation things went hazy. A huge electronic squall began to muddle up the talk. I don't think it was a supernatural being who did that. I think, in the end, we blamed it all on Bill Gates.
Later I wrote a letter. I tried to explain something hazy to someone. Then I thought: what the fuck am I talking about?
However, this morning I received a clear letter. Kathy Fish, one of the editors of Smokelong Quarterly wrote me:
"The editors of Smokelong Quarterly are thrilled to nominate your story ‘He Wrote Sixteen Pencils Empty’ for the 2005 Pushcart Prize. This is a yearly prize for the best stories published in American small presses."
How cool is that? Nevertheless, since I received that letter, life is more hazy. I sit behind my Dutch cloudy desk here, much like in this unclear picture, and I gaze at the ceiling and I think about my blurry life and things.
PS. I would appreciate it if a lot of adds about penis enlargement and snoring problems, would appear as comments to this hazy message. I'm trying to get used to that.