I’m still getting the hang of WordPress. I think it’s great but I also think they are encouraging me to a custom ($ign here) option where richer idiots can do uncomplicated things like change the font and include lifted quotes. And make their Gravatar smaller.*
I’m liking the look of my freeish site except for my huge face there to the right. I know I can delete it but have you ever tried pressing a button that says delete my face? I’d rather go to Kings Cross and take my chances. I’m not pressing that button.
I did Google i want to be smaller and was depressed to find that 365 000 000 (clicks? chicks? dicks
– I’m guessing not) had wanted the same thing. For many people wanting to be smaller is not a bad thing but making shit TV shows about watching them wanting to be smaller IS a bad thing. I didn’t bother Googling i want to be bigger because I get those emails all the time.
So I’ll bolt things on and get things wrong. And then write. (See – I can’t even spell.)
For example, I wanted to post a pic of the ukelady in the last blog but I couldn’t figure that out. I plan to do it here, now.
It worked! I’m done.
I’m exhausted to bed with this triumph. When I got home tonight the sun was setting on the sunroom table. Shadows through the spines of chairs, a beer coaster, a scratchie ticket (we won $8), an eminem cd next to Patsy Cline, a scrap of paper with a wild grid of names and numbers from when the Weipa crowd were here playing cards on the weekend. I lost. I loved and lost.
Time belts on.
Is the novel dead as an art form? I don’t think so.
* Not even WordPress, I know. I’m stupid but I’m not that stupid.**