that I have a blog. And I fantasize about what I would put on my blog. All the art and stories. All the music and film. And then I remember that I don’t have any of those things together to share. Of course since my audience is largely future versions of me I fully understand the obstacles that impede my growth as a blog star, and so I am forgiven.
But having such an understanding audience is a moral hazard, as I tend to stretch even their patience with my incessant procrastination. Lately I’ve started gathering the snippets and shards of my creative life, and forcing them into a shareable form. It’s actually a reconstruction effort owing to some unfortunateness a few years ago, but I’ve milked that event for all the slack I can afford myself. I feel much better now.
Okay, I’m tired of yammering.