Sometimes, the blog feels like a gentle prod. Other times, it feels like a four by four swinging at me. Get something done here. Engage. Write. She’s very aggressive. Kind of a nag.

Perhaps an update about works in progress will appease whatever gene sequence turned on when I pressed publish the first time? It’s unfortunate that my work exists mostly on an imaginary level these days. I’m not sure theoretical work is the appeasement the blog was looking for. But, I think about writing things. I have ideas. Imaginings. Diving in and doing, however, is not going as well as one would hope. Perhaps I’m more suited to a career in middle management?

Part of this is due, I’m sure, to the lack of light. Because why not blame nature? My part of the world has been dark and dreary for record numbers of days on end. It definitely has nothing to do with my personal griefs and existential crises. We should be limited to one difficulty at a time. More than that is just the gods having sport.

The situation of the world would suggest that sport is something they enjoy.

Remember rolling up to 2020? There were fires scorching Australia and I’d just had a lumpectomy. I thought then it was the worst life could get, but since then, it’s just been one thing after another, life proving me wrong as though my statement had been a challenge.

Hold my beer.

How many existential crises do you think the last few years have wrought? Have you had one?

Existential crises aside, I hope all is well in your part of the world, that spring is springing or fall is falling, hemisphere-depending.

I hope also that all’s well with your insides, head, heart, and soul. Too many of us are too good at faking it. That rarely ends well.

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