I don't mean to sound desperate
I don't mean to sounds desperate, but won't somebody blog my blog? 66,000 people are linked to Boing Boing and not one of those fuckers is linked to me. The ball will roll, but how to get it rolling? The colour scheme on mine, if nothing else, is pretty fly. And one of these days, I promise, I will get to the point. Russell Simmons was asked to explain Chris Rock's transformation from journeyman stand-up to comedy genius. "He found his material," Simmons said. Come join me on my search for mine.

More from Raymond Carver

Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year

October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen
I study my father's embarrassed young man's face.
Sheepish grin, he holds in one hand a string
of spiny yellow perch, in the other
a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.

In jeans and denim shirt, he leans
against the front fender of a 1934 Ford.
He would like to pose bluff and hearty for his posterity,
Wear his old hat cocked over his ear.
All his life my father wanted to be bold.

But the eyes give him away, and the hands
that limply offer the string of dead perch
and the bottle of beer. Father, I love you,
yet how can I say thank you, I who can't hold my liquor either,
and don't even know the places to fish?

Poignant, man, but what really does it mean?
“If this sounds like the story of a life, okay.” – Raymond Carver

You couldn't have got it more wrong (Part 1). Or: Using a list to reel them in
Tony Blair. Pornography. George Bush. George Bush, pornography, collection of. Lebannon. Hizbullah. Fort Dunlop. Wayne Rooney. Paul Danan. Zinedine Zidane. Kenya Mob Burns Teenage 'Rapists'. Arctic Monkeys lead Mercury list.

Good news, viewing public
I'm going to give this blog thing another go.