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From: Foxfires
Date: 15 Jun 2004
Time: 14:00:38 -0500
Remote Name: 68.186.67.97
The frustration of email, over snail mail, is a grand one. For instance, the satisfaction of placing a stamp on a carefully chosen envelope and sending it on it's way like a little bird gives one a sense of motion. Words in transit. That detailed missive with it's looped cursive and crossed out mistakes is en route. Such a lovely thought! And likewise, knowing that a reply is making the exodus across the country in various planes, trains and automobiles gives me an assured sense of arrival. 'It will get here soon'. ----------------------- But with email, I find myself at odds with the server gods. 'Today,' they say, 'you are not allowed to check your mail! No, today you must stare at a blank screen and curse the fact that there is no server connection!' - apparently the old virgin-in-the-volcano trick has long since died as an effective means of appeasing the gods. At any rate, there is no sense of movement. No assurance of a journey from point A to point B. There is only the black and white of the internet. Either you will or you won't connect. Simple as that. ---------------- So! That is a very roundabout way of saying, to one person in particular, that I recieved the amazing poem last night... woke enchanted by it this morning, and went to write a lengthy response. The gods had other ideas. ----------- My messenger has a broken wing. But never fear, a response is on it's way, I assure you. ;) Think the volcano might accept damaged goods? ~*~Foxfires~*~ http://www.foxfires.com/blog.html