Imagined weblog entries flash & die
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While I was sleeping most of the days I'd write weblog entries during the spaces of wakening. Well, I thought them. Rearranging my blankets seemed all the effort that I was up to on the material plane. Pity there aren't any telepathic note taking devices. Now that telephones are cameras and music players I think it'd be a logical step for, say, Nokia.
Those weblog entries are lost in the land of the unrealized. No great loss to blogspace.
An enterprising newspaperwoman at The Mirror, one of those UK newspapers of which there are no American equivalents emailed to offer me money if I could tell her who Belle de Jour is. My knowledge of the mysterious Belle is the same as everyone else's: she has a remarkable gift for informal prose. My own Amorous Propensities has always been one of the few weblogs she links to (a recognition for which I've always been deeply flattered).
Between naps I thought it'd be funny to get the notion that she's secretly Roger Scruton going. My entry didn't really assert that but I see it is already bringing visitors from Google. Linking impeccable agreeability with pedantic sobriety amuses me.