Way longer and uglier than I could have imagined it being- back in the remote past when I began this process. Not unlike many of the projects that I have begun:
  The general idea of Never:Mind was to create fragments for a self-referential story about fragments of stories generated by a man out of sync with time sitting at his desk, but experiencing not just his life, but the writing of the story of his life, in the wrong order. The Box of Old fragments is still under the bed and rarely opened or even thought about.
 I'm tempted to talk about my memories of the stuff in the box, like an aging star referring to past glory. Except that there is no star; no glory- not past, present, and maybe not even future. Not in the box of Never:Mind. It's a direct analogue of my life. A metaphor not unlike the Meta web site I'm currently allowing to percolate in my mind.
 You see I don't let just any idea in. I try not to give energy to Bull Shit.
This blog is getting far messier than even Never:Mind dreamed of containing.
There were "Dreams of a Mouse";"The Man at the Typer";"The Fragments of Notes";"The Hallway of Speakers";"The Grassy Field";"..."
 Hopefully, I can present the bulk of the Narrative in the wrong order. A Post Modern Tale way too late to be Post Modern. It will have to settle to the bottom of the lake as Post Contemporary.