Clearly, without setting some kind of arbitrary posting requirement for myself I’m willing to go an entire month without writing a single damned thing here.


It’s not that I’m wholly inactive, but I’m close to it. I could tell you about the saga of the dead fridge but it’s not really that interesting and I don’t think I could make it funny enough. I haven’t played any new games. My biggest accomplishment was finally getting through all fifteen books (so far) in CJ Cherryh’s “Foreigner” sequence. Are they good? Sure. I kept reading, didn’t I? But try as I might, I can’t come up with enough Serious Thoughts about the series to string together into their own post.

My whole life’s like that now. Bits of this, pieces of that, mountains of same-old-same-old. And every time I think “Hey, I should write about that,” I realize that I don’t have anything to say.

Mind you, this journal spent the first few years of its existence as the functional equivalent of Twitter, and now there’s Twitter. (Which I’m not as active on anymore, either.) So maybe I’m just struggling to find relevance in myself in addition to figuring out what I’m supposed to be doing online.