I was invited to join a collaborative blog, which I done, thusly: Taking The Brim. this is an opportunity of blog that I like. I think it was Ted Berrigan, describing the scene (probably in one of the really pissa interview collections with himself: he was someone who could make an interview an event (Olson would be another, off the top me head)), and how people would add stuff to unattended typewriters, collaboration without hardly trying. and then there was the mimeo movement, a sort of potlatch distribution of texts. both pieces I've posted so far are text twiddles. one of a poem by James Thomson, one a snatch from the Book of Mormon. I don't consider this 'my' writing, in the sense that I claim nothing but the idea to mess so with these texts. not that I don't stand by that. but I'm talking the falsity of claim, of what I am 'doing'. it's a received process, I guess, just as it would be if I started dripping and heaving paint on a horizontal canvas might be effective but I'd feel Pollockish. I can absorb practices, but when my mind consciously experiments, it often seems imitative. any of that make sense? I'm not building up creative sovreignity, just identifying my most natural course.