I Was Here

...in Indiana, and then VA, and WV, and Chicago, and Indiana, and back, with a couple of drive-through states thrown in there for spice.  Nowhere did I take indifferently shot snapshots to post on the blog, and nowhen did I seize time to reflect.  Instead I was consumed, ingested and digested by the black ravening monster that is the business of living.
 
Bad for blogging, for sure.  Bad for me?

Now that I've crawled out the other end, and for the next two weeks can cobble together some semblance of my weekly routine ( Thursdays: adminstrivia; Saturdays; aerobics  Wednesdays: booze!), plus a few glamorous extras, like getting my teeth cleaned, I have space, once more, to turn around.  To look back.  To ask -the impetus every time I blog- what happened here?

I believe in reflection.  More precisely, I believe in refraction: what is the point of the white, unfiltered blaze of life if not to direct it, to force it, prism-like, to show its colors.

And yet, with space comes second-guessing.  You worry old wounds; you covet alternate lives; you bemoan the state of humankind -in short, you engage in all the bookish, first-world endeavors that make the literary subset of the population so god damed miserable.

As opposed to running full-tilt, unthinking, here.