Leather.
Apparently, that’s the traditional type of gift one gets and gives on the third anniversary. (The modern? Crystal, or glass. There’s a moral to be drawn, if you’re so inclined.)
I’ve been at this for three years now, which is roughly a twelfth of my existence, which doesn’t sound too bad, I guess, you put it that way.
Trying to move it all over to another server and use WordPress instead and prevent another round of galloping linkrot and maybe redesign the whole shooting match while I’m at it which means I’m trapped in an another round of why am I doing this again and what is it I’m doing, anyway, and wouldn’t I have more fun if I just committed to the shallow end of the cult stud game instead of trying to come off like a second-rate Rude Poor Man, except then I feel like I haven’t done the reading, which is usually why I fall back on coming off like a second-rate etc., and anyway shouldn’t I be doing more local politics? And culture? I could have sworn there was a resolution around here somewhere to that effect. Oh, and since the day job went back to what passes for normal, I’ve been trying to do more non-whateverthisis writing. Like City of Roses. Good God, has it really been that long?
Which would explain the relative silence hereabouts of late in part, I guess.
(No, it’s not pretty. It never is. Nor does it help to realize Barbellion said pretty much what I’m trying to say 102 years ago, or thereabouts.)
So.
Um.
Oh, head over here for some photos of our cats, and me in my new silly hat; “Hänger Långsamt I Luften,” “Raining Twilight Coast,” “Red Rain,” “Polchasa,” “Ask DNA,” “Caught Making Love,” “Dead,” “Letter to a John,” “Filipino Box Spring Hog,” “Pigeon Toes,” and let’s throw in the Nappy Roots / Mountain Goats mashup, since it’s fun; vote in the Koufax Awards, where I think I’m up for best writing, but also, I got nominated for a Perranoski for design, so vote there, too, I guess, and, um, I’ll be back. Browse the archives, or hit the blogroll, or, hell, you know how this works.
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I vote for the cult stud game, which you're far from the shallow end of. Nobody's done the reading. Everybody's faking it --"Now this is nothing: less than perfect in a less-than-perfect world," you know. You'd be in good company. I recommend the intro to the Bérubé-edited Aesthetics of Cultural Studies as a useful crib sheet, although I'm sure there's reading MB hasn't done either.
Have fallen madly in love with Beezle.
Hear, hear. If we waited to say anything till we knew what we were talking about, no one would say anything and so there'd be nothing to not know.
I like your writing and I hope I continue to have the opportunity to read it.
Regarding anniversary gifts: shiny, shiny boots and whiplash girlchild in the dark, or are you more the Robert Redford type?
Shiny boots, please. And Beezle is adorable, yes.
Russell warned Wittgenstein to write now and not wait until he had solved all the problems. Wittgenstein didn't take his advice, of course, and I hope you don't either. Thank you for it all.
Oops... I meant you to suggest you SHOULD take Russell's advice. Words are the limits of my world. I stepped off the edge of that world with my previous comment misusing my words and twisting my intent. Please write. More. Often. Thank you!