THE SWARM exists here and only here and spreads forthwith. New material and things of note, for instance, and other tiny swarming mammals after darkness, they cluster together for warmth.

This column of text is a monument to the possibilities of the digital page, or what we consider a page, even having named these html constructions after our very own printed page. Is the web page a page in any sense of the world? It contains, it constrains, it contends that it can continue to expand. Not a leaf, it is a part, a stage, an elevator shaft descending into nothingness.

The items on the right are recent things I have been excited about but that have not yet fit into anything larger or more permanent (could anything be more permanent and archival quality than this?). Books and publications lag far behind my interest in writing them and reading them and putting out them to be spidered by you and the ginger fingers of whatever is passing over this space every second, capturing data and pushing it into packets for redistribution and indexing on search engines. Isn't that a beautiful thing, to think that we are all being recorded and as such elegized continually?