Endblog by Samuel Beckett
(translated from the original French by Stephenesque)
The stage is bare except for a thin brick wall into which a computer screen featuring a blogging interface has been cemented. As if troubled by a dial-up connection, words appear slowly on the screen.
Blogger: Log on .... Blog? .... Blog? Not I .... Blog? Do I remember my own arsehole? It was cured like salted ham and sat there not knowing. Or was it lean and feathered with coarse white hair like a senile eagle who streaks the sky with spittle yellow as fool's piss ....Blog? A long stretch of piss here. Link via mumble dot com dot com dot com. Ha! An echo of an internet inside a scrap heap. Not I .... Blog? ... Quick scroll down: type: post: link: quote: italics: delete: delete: delete: escape: no return: shift alt ....option? ... Blog? .... Trackback always tracking back. This dying screen imprisons as many pixels as Mother O' Houlihan's steaming vagina giving birth into a unwanted URL .... Blog? .... Blog?
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Posted by: Post A Comment | September 10, 2005 at 19:30
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Posted by: DarkoV | September 12, 2005 at 16:30
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Posted by: ~ | September 12, 2005 at 17:55
This was to inform you that a new weblog has just been created to celebrate Beckett's centennial in a rhizomatic, translinguistic way.
It's called
The Beckett Bilingual Birthday weBlog
http://beckett2006.blogspot.com/
Posted by: Guillaume Cingal | January 28, 2006 at 16:14