I have a problem with first pages — I always have. I often leave them blank, with aspirations of returning at a later date and imbuing some masterpiece to its intimidating naked frame. The second page, to me, seems a more agreeable introduction to introductory phrases. I imagine this says something about me, and as a result you, but more on that later. What is it about the first page that is so scary? It’s an impression. Will what follows be worth my time? Do I want to see the second page based on the first. This mirrors society. It’s hard to recover from a bad first impression.
Though I wonder if this dilemma will become antiquated with the new narrative formats, favored for that of the blog (for which I prayed for a better name to arise). To this day I have reservations of saying blog aloud. Formats that favor the new to old, unless you began reading from inception, your essentially opening to the middle of the book with no end. The first page, contentually, is of little importance. It’s a peculiar narrative and it too litters our minds with fragments. I wonder if the post-information age will be called the Fragmentation Age. That is its present glacier course. Yet the age I envision, better yet, the age I hope for, is the Industrial Devolution.