After only seven months in the blogosphere, I know I am still a neophyte when it comes to blogging.  I am slowly learning, with the help of Angela, Paula, and Jill, the "language" of the blogs, and it is very different.  There's stuff like "blinks, pings, and linkbacks."  It got me to thinking of how two of the greatest authors of the 20th Century would write if they blogged.

With profound apologies, here are some blogging thoughts in the style of William Faulkner:

Having just set down in my high-tech, ergonomically correct, imported from Sweden, multi-position office chair after having consumed a pitcher of that delicious concoction comprised of ice, vodka, and orange juice, which would leave lesser mortals totally incoherent from its combustible 75:25 ratio of vodka to juice, I try to organize my somewhat random but highly intellectual thoughts into a stream of consciousness narrative that will posit my unconventional, but inherently readable, diatribes on the state of mankind that even the most isolated souls who, as happenstance and serendipity working in tandem would have it, are totally deprived of all emotional content can understand, and as I sit before the omnipotence of the modern computing device, my highly dexterous fingertips begin their waltz-like procession, not unlike that of Emmitt and Cheryl on "Dancing with the Stars," across my unfortunately conformist keyboard and transform themselves into my latest blog posting.

If that is too verbose for you, try Ernest Hemingway:

Fighting my seventh consecutive morning hangover, I sit in my expensive chair.  Thoughts bounce through my head like ricochets at a shooting range. I type.  I laugh. I communicate.  Soon, happy hour will arrive.  My daily toil will cease.  The bell does toll for me.

(By the way, I have neither an imported Swedish office chair, nor an expensive one.  Rather, I was trying to let the authors "channel" through me.)