It's been so long since I've written here, I'd all but forgotten staking out this corner of the internet as my own. But I'm again feeling the need for a quiet corner to type up my ramblings, maybe a link to send people to when I feel I've had a particularly cogent thought. So welcome back, me!
We've had a disturbingly, brilliantly, confusingly warm winter here on the left coast. Bud break came early. The plums have been out for nearly a month, and the San Francisco street Magnolias are starting to blossom. The parks were overflowing every weekend in January. Our artisanal ice cream vendors have been doing brisk business, and it's been absolutely fabulous weather for biking. In fact, it's been downright challenging to reign in the smug when gchatting up my easterly compatriots -- what with the warmth, and the plum blossoms, and the progressive politics, and the sexual permissiveness, and the year-round deliciousness that is the Yay! Compared to their now-no-fun-at-all Snowpocalypse.
And then yesterday the deluge started. I rejoiced at the chance to break out my new rubber boots. And today I'm sitting down to this. Which is all to say that I feel both on the cusp of a wild blossoming and the urgent need to be deliberate, to pay attention, and to put at least some of this moment into written words. Also, I think we should approach any creative practice (any practice at all, really) the way Dan Savage thinks we should approach monogamy. That is, we should think about it like we think about sobriety: you fall off the wagon, and then you get back on.