An Introduction of Sorts

My name. Do I really have to tell it to you? Do you really need to know? Mozie. It's Mozie. Phonetically, it goes something like Mōtzie, you have to sound out that t. It rhymes with goat-c (as in some sort of vitamin C that comes from eating goat; or a goat that drinks alot of OJ). It has the sound of Salzburg in it, though I'm really just an American (for better or for worse), whose mother had a wild imagination. Has a wild imagination. I'll tell you how I got my name some other time, it's a long story, as all stories of origins are, I guess. But you've got the surface for now. We'll dig later.

As things are it seems I'm faced with a bout of solitary confinement. Although how solitary are you, really, if you have the internet for company?  But still, I find myself needing a conversation, that trace of human touch/tongue, the beats of language pouncing off one another, touching swords and fencing. So, if you like, give me your  hands (or typing fingers) and we'll be friends. Lend me your name for a while, ask me questions. I'll do the same.

I'll try and write everyday. Sometimes circumstances here, where I am, may prevent me, but I'll write as often as  I can.