(perforated lines -- you can't resist them)

 

deserted corner 

(left flower) Thursday, June 24, 1999 (right flower)

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1:05 a.m. So I've learned a valuable lesson -- don't put off writing this entry by puttering all day or wait until the Sopranos have shot off their mouths or you'll never get it up and then when you finally sweat it out and finish it, and actually get that little fetching doggie to behave, your unnamed hisssISP will not connect you and your site looks unmanned after all your hard work and why am I calling myself "you" all of a sudden?

I think the photo, opposite, is mute testimony to something, something sort of pathetic. I don't know whether it's the futility of the fallen stars on the deserted pavement or the Zen seesaw of Jewelry/Loans, or the traffic light there at the corner of Hollywood and Vine endlessly sending out signals like a tree in a forest when there's nobody there.

Or maybe it's the fact that in a lost November, 1995, at 3 a.m., some anonymous web worker was pointing a furtive cam's eye at a scene that used to be lit with dueling kliegs, light-sabering the sky and cutting through the mob of camera-clicking locusts.

Or maybe it's the idea that somebody even more anonymous is wandering deserted corners of the web for something alive to get herself hooked on, even if it's only a flickering pawn sign. Pathetic.

Go to bed, already, if you're lucky enough to have one.

  

I'll see you tomorrow ...

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