Two years of Fussy yesterday. Two years ago I was sitting at home with a tiny baby and four airplanes were hijacked and two big buildings fell down and one month later, looking for pictures of the event, because it was like a sore tooth that I needed to keep pushing at with my tongue, I found George Weld's Web log. George was in lower Manhattan that day, taking pictures of events as they unfolded, and faster than you can say "Associated Press" he was posting them on his site with simple captions describing his experiences that morning.* I was so amazed at what he'd done that I went back through his archives to see what other disasters he'd covered. Instead I found pictures of a car trip through California, a lot of posts that merely said "test," and a link to a site called Blogger.
And then this morning I got an e-mail with the subject line: "you and your goddamn blog!"
So I'm happy about the way this whole Web journal thing has evolved for me.
Here's a poem!
Living close to death
is not just a case of breath after breath.
It is to realize that to fraternize
with the dark prince is possible and wise,
so that in the final weather
when together you quit the room
though tentative and weary
you will have the enormous answer
to the enormous query.
*He's taken them down, but there are lots of other photographs worth looking at on his site.