Has anyone noticed that I haven't posted to my blog in over two weeks? Is this a record? How would I feel if it were? Isn't my second blogiversary coming up next week? Should I wait to post until then? Will people think I've given up? Why is it that I can only write questions? Do you think, like Kenneth Goldsmith, that the written word is undergoing a revolution, much the way painting did with the advent of photography, a rethinking that will completely change our idea of what a writer is and does? Have you considered that every image and sound on the internet is, under the sheen, text, and that this text (even when written by machine) and the manipulation of it (even when manipulated by machine) will become the new art of writing? Does this sound disturbing? Or refreshing? Why do we cling to our habits and beliefs, especially when everything is changing? Will the neighbor ever be done mowing? Will I ever write another novel? Why didn't people discourage me? Or did they? Is it possible to write an entire novel with only questions? Should I try to find out? Would anyone ever read it? Or would it become a curiosity piece? Would I get interviewed by Terry Gross? What if I wrote the entire novel with questions that have already been written and posted to the internet? Is that plagiarism? Is it possible to ask a question that hasn't already been asked? Could a person read a novel written only in questions and not want to strangle the author? Why are we so obsessed with lawn mowing? Will my husband be upset if I don't make dinner? Will he be upset if I do? Will he read this blog post? Who could possibly stand to read this far? My parents? Charlie Parr? Why does his music make so many people cry? Could he be some kind of a prophet? Is it true, like I told him, that we will meet again? Why is it the new habit to put just one space at the end of a sentence? What are the kids up to in the kitchen? Should I be concerned? Should I end with a statement? Or would that ruin it?