Ptolemy DCLVIII To me, Blather is an incompletable compendium of alpha(numeric) arts.

Poems, stories, dialogues and diaries; adorations and exultations, diatribes and tirades; jokes, riddles, cryptologues and "nonsensicles" ("Popsicles made of nonsense?" asked Anne-Girl, to my endless delight).... Philosophies and religious views confront drug-talk and nutrition info and things Heraclitus said converge here. Someone blathes about their mother and the next blathes about asdfasfd. Gibberish and ASCII art and huge Zs. Palindromes and anagrams. Math stuff. Programming code. Lists of favorite things. Long lines. Music and art and sports and games and recipes and skite_pics and ___ and ____ , we might discuss or observe anything here, and it might be sincere or abhorrent or unintelligible or profound. Often we aim for one result and arrive at another.

There are arguments and there are accolades exchanged. Some banter, others canter; I'm a ranter.

To me, all alpha(numeric) stuff has a home of sorts here. Things that lack meaning at first later come to be of interest. There is often admiration and irreverence to be found in consecutive entries. In the same stroke there is ego and egolessness; our identities are mutable and unimportant, yet are an integral piece of the Art itself? Are not names an alpha(numeric) art in their own right?

Apparently this must be addressed once per trimester, but I don't mind, personally. After all, why not discuss such things? It's an experiment, according to the homepage. "From_humility_flowereth_Blather."

I have tried to continue making Blather a thing of interest, a thing of curiosity, and a thing of familiar strangeness for all those who stumble upon it, because this is what it has been to me, because these are the reasons I have enjoyed - and continue to enjoy - Blather.

This is why I blathe the way I do.
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