I see myself as a sort of monster at times.  A heavy-footed troll, incapable of light touch and beau geste, I stomp around finding pretty things and trampling on them.  There is no grace and no finesse about me, just a great muddle-brained dinosaur who doesn’t return phone calls, never pulls a punch, is always desperate for money and cigarettes – and who is known far and wide for disappearing without a trace, leaving a wide wake of the wounded.  I come, I see, I crush, and then I wander off into the sunrise, cawing absentmindedly.

Krut wants to know where I have been writing lately; he can’t find it.  The truth is, I have not been writing.  I’ve hardly written a thing since I came to Berkeley.  Somehow I became a web designer, and I suppose that is that?

No, it isn’t, but the writing does need some attention to start up again.  I’ve forgotten what it feels like to string words together all the way from deep inside my belly, forgotten what my own voice sounds like, forgotten how to find it.

I am leaving you, Buzznet.

Buzznet, thou hast shortfallen me.  I was never comfortable here, never able to create a world of my own the way I could with a real blog.  I came here because it’s where my favorite bloggers are, and because I didn’t want to go it alone – but I was never a photographer, and didn’t want to be.  I took pictures because I needed something to bring people to my writing; if I didn’t have pictures to post, I didn’t write.  Well, forget that.  If I was a photographer I would be endlessly happy here, but I’m not and I’m not.

Fare thee well, sweet Buzznet.  May all your dreams be lucid.

Things are starting up in a new arena: finally, after months of almost doing what I wanted to do, I have been given a little extra time, and I have done it.  There is a new site in the works, and if you want to know you can send me a message, kids.  I warn you now that it will be words and not pictures.  It’s for the best, you know.

xoxoxxx
the Hun