8:135) Ginny Little 12-FEB-98 11:06

and then, as i work at home, knowing that comfort, only possible through the way technology transforms, and understanding the irony of remembering not so long ago when i pledged my faith to my typewriter, not believing a computer to be anything more, only less, another machine, and my dread of machines. and at home, i see Jerry Springer, wondering if it's an aberation, or a frightening icon of the chaos of the times, number one in the daytime ratings, that i would never know if i "went" to work like most do. wondering about the others at home who watch and those who throng to display the violent confusion that composes their way of being, the degredation, the far stray from value or sense of self outside of the outrageous screaming, we need to feel loved. and where and how did we all get so lost, or is it all, and how and who does it represent, it makes me quaver, and it kills princesses who survived monarchies, but cannot survive the times. is it a ripple from the social revolution of the days i have lived, the aftermath of an attempt to cry out against wars without cause and the rage against a seemed lack of meaning..and now, where does it bring us? i worry about the feeling that we are lost in the fog, forgetting home we ran so quickly thinkig it was a place we needed to escape..still hoping upon return to find our supper still warm, our teddy bears still a not forgotten friend we missed, waiting on a cold pillow. and i often wish i could sleep whether in a remote forest alone, or in my bed at home, without the plague of an artist's mind that never stills, even in sleep, dreams. scarecrow, which path do i follow, why can't you tell me more than, well, you could go this way, or this way as well? is there an answer anywhere? can we ever really "know"? ironically, no one can ever tell me how...muse of the morning, but no dawning...always just beyond my reach.