Atum

Atum created the fertile lands of the Egypitian Nile by masturbating and spilling his highly potent seed on the Saharan sand. I like to think this blog was created in much the same way.



It was a bit messy, Atum being infinitely proportioned and so on, but the potency of his seed was enough to justify the clean up effort. My keyboard is bound to be broken but, alas, the price you pay for inspiration. I speak entirely in metaphors, of course, and of immaterial spiritual substance.

The problem with that idea is physical substance IS spiritual substance. There is nothing soulless about the dense weaving of my skull bone, there is nothing passionless about texture of my palms, my mucus is entirely ideological. A phallus might not conceptualize dedication to political reform, but it sure knows how to penetrate into the thick of a hairy situation. It knows the essence, the impulse; the body communicates the classics in mute, it theorizes in force and weights; the complicated play of theory becomes solidified in the mechanical functioning of the human form.

EGYPT CAT:

thoughts on dead cats

The question I have to ask when beginning the dubious verb of "blogging," is of course, why bother? I hope you aren't reading this, and if you are, I have to ask you why. What dark alley of the internet led you here? What hour of desperate boredom, what profound lack of experience led you to seek thrills in the crushingly mundane existence of someone else?

That being said, I intend to have you amused by this blog, a little aroused, and hopefully not to angry. Maybe a little angry. I usually tend to make people I'm hitting on angry. Am I hitting on you? Its probably the anger of intimacy. We are this close now, two blogheads connecting through the e-space, reaching out with our e-hands and touching our e-phalluses together. Phalluses. That has bound to be a recurring theme of this blog. that, and and inconsistent capitalization, bad spelling, fragments, and pictures of cats in various states of life. I cover the gamut of cat pictures, from kittens to dead. This is a picture of a very, very old cat:
What is profound about this is it's amazing ambiguity in the "state of cat" chart. Neither purely dead or purely cute, it borders the twilight zone between labels; it blossoms from the crack between idealogical crevices from which releases all the creative forces of the universe, and by extension the most fascinating internet meems. After all, what is not ambiguous is not worthy of mention.
But I digress. Obviously, The cat is most certainly dead. Yet it retains such a wonderful sense of movement-- even a sassy attitude! Does it threaten to attack thieves of her Egyptian demigod's tomb? Or does it paw at imaginary predators, her actual hunting function long ago watered down into imagination by the bourgeoisies-- could it even be saying, "I'm in your tomb, stealin your hiroglifix?" And further more, does its state of preservation move it out of the "dead cat" category, since its lack of recent signs of decay remove the shock quality most vital to the best dead cat pictures?

These questions are endlessly fascinating and surely will inspire scores of heated internet comment debates, peppered by existential questions of the validity of such comments in the first place and porn solicitations.

Discuss, non-existent readers. Primarily, tell me why you are reading, and why I shouldn't judge you.