There are so many nearly-born blog posts floating around in my head.
None of them worth their pixels to anyone but me. As they lie there in
increasingly dark and dusty corners, the spiders of oblivion making them
cobwebby and obscure, they decay. Bits of them break off and grow legs
and begin to scuttle around, making scratching noises and muttering
resentfully. Frankly, the racket is starting to get on my nerves.
And so. Therefore. Prepare yourself, dear reader, for a barrage of (or, at least, several) meaningless posts aimed at little more than reducing the noise in my head. It’s all just words, really, but it’s the words that I love, after all. But I do love giving surprises. So there could be nothing too.
Well. It is the last day of September and I am a brooding a bit for that. I love September. It’s my favorite month and it’s almost over. A whole year of waiting for it again . . . it feels kind of like finishing a favorite book. Satisfying, except you’re not ready to be done with it yet. (This is of course referring back to the days when I read books.)
And so. Therefore. Prepare yourself, dear reader, for a barrage of (or, at least, several) meaningless posts aimed at little more than reducing the noise in my head. It’s all just words, really, but it’s the words that I love, after all. But I do love giving surprises. So there could be nothing too.
Well. It is the last day of September and I am a brooding a bit for that. I love September. It’s my favorite month and it’s almost over. A whole year of waiting for it again . . . it feels kind of like finishing a favorite book. Satisfying, except you’re not ready to be done with it yet. (This is of course referring back to the days when I read books.)
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