Notches

Returning here to Fayetteville after a 2-year foray into New Mexicao, happy but broke, I scrounged enough money to pay a week's room rent, and took the first job I could find - as a janitor-custodian at our local University. The job gave me access to a web server. A new foray - onto the Internet - was underway.

And the thoughts do come. Infinite. Triggered by the thoughts of literally millions of others. All at light speed. Everything. Info overload. From the Greek translation of the Holy Bible to the latest soil analysis radioed back by the Mars Rover. Are daily pedicures written into CEO's contracts? Has President Obama sneezed in public this week? The answers are there. All condensed to ones and zero! Magic Land.

The Muse is curious? I'm curious. Maybe "frantic" is more accurate. Whatever information (images or text) is entered onto the Net, other choices are endless. What will work? What will crash? It remains a hell of a ride. An on-going adventure.

How not "fess up" to anything done on the internet? It is hardly a choice. Which I accept. I grew up in a small town. People knew what other people did. Even "global" a village is that: a village. Where, as I now write, I live.