Sunday, February 12, 2006

so let it be written so let it be done

And so I bring you almost to the present moment. Friend, love, confidant. Reader, critic, mocker, god. Do you not yet understand? You, not I, are the god of this realm. Because you may do as you please. Stay or leave or cut and paste, change it to your whim, make it all your own. I wrote that, and I wrote this, some other stuff happened that is important to me but not to you. I do not flatter myself that my little affairs are the concern of a god. I concern myself only that I promised you a day's tale, and here it is. I wrote that, and I wrote this, and by the time you read this (if you ever read this) this day will be long past. I may be dead, I may have moved on to bigger and better things. Doesn't matter. The point is, here we are together, at last. I can only imagine you and you can only imagine me. Strange relationship. But then the relationship is always strange between men and their gods. Perhaps it all means little to you. But then the saving grace (or is it the crippling failure?) is that there is more. Much, much more.

klik if you demand tedious explanations of every little thing.

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