It could be said that maybe an apology is owed. That perhaps the two-plus years of sporadic and often cryptic writing was a mistake. Or, if not a mistake, then lacking in a certain grace that other, more famous hiatal blogs possess. One might even argue that, were this to be a fair and just world, that yr. humble author (yes hello how are you, a pleasure as always) would perhaps consider issuing an apology for this lack of such certain authorial grace. But, again, this assumes that he is such an author to make such an apology, and that this is a fair and just world. Only one of these assumptions is true. Determining which is which is left as an exercise to the reader.
God’s honest truth is that I have been terribly busy and not busy. All Schrodinger’s Cat up in here. There is literally no better way to experience quantum mechanics than by going on a job hunt. Did that not make any sense? That’s the point! Rimshot.
So I guess to review the last year, when records got especially spotty, a list is provided, which lacks the writerly grace that yrs. truly continues not to be known for:
- I received a college diploma, much to everyone’s distress
- I moved to the Seattle area, which is where people go to drink pretty good coffee and be mean to everybody
- I met a nice young lady who breaks a lot of teapots (hello, dear!)
- I got a job at a soulless multinational software company, much to everyone’s delight
- I spent too much money on a kitchen knife and bought an entire bed from Amazon.com and didn’t feel bad about either
And now we’re all up to speed. All that said, honestly I haven’t really thought through much else, wrt. the future of the writing you may or may not be seeing here soon. Because you’d never guess it, but these past two years have been lacking any sort of creative output of any kind, from words to doodling to singing out loud to Top 40 (shame, the shame) to whatever, and I’m afraid I’ve fallen into some sort of pit of anticreativity. I may die in a cubicle. I used to be halfway good at making a big deal out of little things. It’d be a shame.