Proof of Life: Dying to Blog
You and I know blogging is a job — and a genetic obsession — and now, thanks to The New York Times, everyone else knows blogging is killing us all.

You and I know blogging is a job — and a genetic obsession — and now, thanks to The New York Times, everyone else knows blogging is killing us all.

We are all disposable. The longer we live, the closer we move to the trash bin.
As we age, and become less than we were, technology strives to keep us alive, to help the heart keep pumping and to keep the skeletal architecture of us strong and the impulse of our muscle twitching.

There is nothing worse in the world than moving a blog from one publishing platform to another.
I am presently oozing pain and suffering rivulets of blood loss today as my Urban Semiotic blog suffers against a threatening weekend of technical support inaction and un-styled blog content and borked URLs.

I don’t know if cellular phones cause cancer or not, but I can share with you an experience I had many years ago with my BLACK Motorola StarTac cellular phone.
When I had my cellular phone problem — in the early 90’s — Motorola was the king of phones. There was no better purchase you could make that would give you greater sound, resonance and connectivity.

We live on the web and we give up our lives to the technological edge we get in the manic high of discovery and meaning. That effort carves away bits of us in the process of propagating our hopes and yearnings into the ether for a response and a sharing.

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