Esther Dyson

What who me, what, huh? Wotchatalkingaboutwillis?

[ a seemingly forever-long moment of silence, as the brainwaves descend from beyond the reaches of Pluto ].

What? What are you talking about? Who are you? What? What are you asking? What? Huh? Oh Blogs. Oh yeah that.

Well, I am onto other newer, better and bigger, and more importantly, more richly lucrative meme's. I can't much be bothered. Plus I can't really communicate via the written word, take a look at my 223 Flickr pages, follow my travels and name drops. I am not an entity, I am a time. My time is now.

Doncha wish you were me? I am forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air, they fly so high, nearly reach the sky, then like my dreams they fade and die. I'm dreaming dreams, I'm scheming schemes, I'm building castles high, they're born anew, their days are few.

And I am still busy discovering the obvious and promoting the impossible. Oh lookie! A new start-up company sticker for my laptop, wheee. But blogs? How so heady and troublesome, I am far too jet-set for that.

Life is a test, and I confess, I like this mess I've made so far. Grade on a curve and you'll observe. I'm right below the horizon.

What who me, what, you have another question? Huh? Didn't I answer the blog thing? Huh? Yes, no, maybe, I don't know. Can you repeat the question...

New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about meme musik
Talk about, meme musik
Talk about, meme musik
Meme meme meme meme musik