I'd actually like to try the paper. I think it would be a generative experience to sit and watch a poem fade away and then to rewrite it. Sort of like blank screen revision. I guess that won't be happening any time soon. Not if I need a special printer.
More likely I'll end up having nightmares about accidentally using it when printing off a manuscript to send to a publisher. This would happen again and again until publishers across the country finally call an emergency meeting to determine why Schmidt keeps sending them all this blank paper. They decide to send me a letter, asking me to stop with the paper. Being environmentally conscious, they use the paper I sent. By the time the letter gets to me, well, you know...
Interesting scenario-- by the time the letters come back you'll be able to save the paper again, write another classic work of art, and send it off the publisher again.
But then again, if one thinks deeper about this, the paper doesn't hold any words, so it won't hold your name, nor your address, so they wouldn't really know it was you sending hundreds of pages of empty sheets of paper. Blogging up the publishing world system, plugging the snail-mail with empty mail. Why, they may even think that there's some covert ecological plot going on, to which they will call an international meeting of the great publishing minds, advocating for the ban of paper completely. Writers will no longer be able to send their manuscripts in hard copy. From there on in publishers will only accept submissions in legally formatted zip files, or in some future hand-held computer contraption.Thus, eventually, the need for books will disintegrate, like ink from paper.
Ha! My would-be nightmare takes place before the government passes legislation for the mandatory use of self-erasable envelopes; therefore, I used a standard envelope and addressed it by hand, taking special care to make sure my return address was readable, using my lucky Papermate Flexgrip Ultra.
However, somewhere between my nightmare and yours, the country has run out of trees, between the beetle infestation and many years of Conservative rule. Canadians, finally tired of sweating it out in their globally warmed yards while they barbecue and unable to keep an umbrella from blowing away, march to the polls, demanding shade. The NDP finally come to power with a huge majority. The first bill they introduce addresses envelopes.
Soon it's the law to use self-erasable envelopes. Within 24 hours Canada Post is in crisis. The letter carriers are dropping from exhaustion, trying to get the letters delivered before the addresses fade away. Canada Post begins to air new, hard-hitting recruitment commercials. The crisis continues. They set up recruitment booths along popular running paths. Soon not a jogger can be found along Saskatoon's Spadina. The crisis continues. Every night on CBC news, there are eye-witness accounts of joggers being thrown into vans. Families begging for the safe return of their marathoners. Chaos. Canadians stop running altogether, afraid they'll be next. In playgrounds on Valentine's Day, children walk slowly, nervously, from monkey bars to swings. They use their bare fingers to draw hearts in the snow for their friends. They don't mention last Valentine's Day. By the time they got to school with their little Valentine cards, the names had disappeared. Their hearts had faded away.
7 comments:
Neat.
B I don't think this beta is working very well. Half the time that word verification doesn't show up.
Time to move onto WP.
Time schmime. I'm going down with the ship. Be nice and wave at the bubbles.
Free verse. I think essays could benefit from this paper.
Reminds me of that old phrase: "This message will self-destruct in 5 minutes."
Ha!
I'd actually like to try the paper. I think it would be a generative experience to sit and watch a poem fade away and then to rewrite it. Sort of like blank screen revision. I guess that won't be happening any time soon. Not if I need a special printer.
More likely I'll end up having nightmares about accidentally using it when printing off a manuscript to send to a publisher. This would happen again and again until publishers across the country finally call an emergency meeting to determine why Schmidt keeps sending them all this blank paper. They decide to send me a letter, asking me to stop with the paper. Being environmentally conscious, they use the paper I sent. By the time the letter gets to me, well, you know...
Interesting scenario-- by the time the letters come back you'll be able to save the paper again, write another classic work of art, and send it off the publisher again.
But then again, if one thinks deeper about this, the paper doesn't hold any words, so it won't hold your name, nor your address, so they wouldn't really know it was you sending hundreds of pages of empty sheets of paper. Blogging up the publishing world system, plugging the snail-mail with empty mail. Why, they may even think that there's some covert ecological plot going on, to which they will call an international meeting of the great publishing minds, advocating for the ban of paper completely. Writers will no longer be able to send their manuscripts in hard copy. From there on in publishers will only accept submissions in legally formatted zip files, or in some future hand-held computer contraption.Thus, eventually, the need for books will disintegrate, like ink from paper.
Ha! My would-be nightmare takes place before the government passes legislation for the mandatory use of self-erasable envelopes; therefore, I used a standard envelope and addressed it by hand, taking special care to make sure my return address was readable, using my lucky Papermate Flexgrip Ultra.
However, somewhere between my nightmare and yours, the country has run out of trees, between the beetle infestation and many years of Conservative rule. Canadians, finally tired of sweating it out in their globally warmed yards while they barbecue and unable to keep an umbrella from blowing away, march to the polls, demanding shade. The NDP finally come to power with a huge majority. The first bill they introduce addresses envelopes.
Soon it's the law to use self-erasable envelopes. Within 24 hours Canada Post is in crisis. The letter carriers are dropping from exhaustion, trying to get the letters delivered before the addresses fade away. Canada Post begins to air new, hard-hitting recruitment commercials. The crisis continues. They set up recruitment booths along popular running paths. Soon not a jogger can be found along Saskatoon's Spadina. The crisis continues. Every night on CBC news, there are eye-witness accounts of joggers being thrown into vans. Families begging for the safe return of their marathoners. Chaos. Canadians stop running altogether, afraid they'll be next. In playgrounds on Valentine's Day, children walk slowly, nervously, from monkey bars to swings. They use their bare fingers to draw hearts in the snow for their friends. They don't mention last Valentine's Day. By the time they got to school with their little Valentine cards, the names had disappeared. Their hearts had faded away.
However, the greeting card industry would go way down hill as they would all be reusable. And that would be nice.
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