This BLOG, this foreign word/concept, is like a message in a bottle. I am scratching a note onto a piece of cloth with a talc-like stone or charred stick. I am trying to communicate my thoughts and feelings verbally across an incalculable space and time to a person unimaginable. I don't know what distant shore my bottle will land on, nor do I know who will brush off the sand and salt, uncork it and read the dusty trash my fingers and mind created. Where did I get the bottle in the first place? And, assuming I landed on this solitary island with only a bottle and cloth and charred stick, did I drink the contents of the bottle before or after I washed ashore? Is it possible that I am stranded on an island because I drank the liquid from the bottle or did I drink because I was stranded? This bottle doesn't have a label or identifying mark. It is only an orifice of cold green and wooden cork without any fluid or bile and it is mine to fill with messages, stories, thoughts, feelings and poems. I am sending a message in a bottle to distant shores and I hope the ether carries it to alien shores far away. Perhaps my bottle can't rescue me from my isolated island but with it, I can communicate and share and preserve myself in a verbal, if not physical, form.