Link: In the Absence of Fiction

I would spend years, save up money, and buy a printing press to capture every one of Diana Kimball’s posts in dark ink and heavy paper, and then read them and keep them and read them again by the fire, in the rain, and under my covers illuminated by a flashlight. This one would be my favorite.

Except the the unread items count in my newsreader just jumped, and I haven’t checked digg in, well, hours at least.

I suppose it’s telling that whenever I feel zen-like, the internet is far away.

It’s probably even more telling that I often subsequently tweet, “Zen.” just to make sure that my story hasn’t been cast aside and forgotten by the multitudes in the last forty minutes.