I guess I wouldn’t call it a resuscitation. Not at this point. At this point it’s more a touch of chicken bones and circles scrawled in chalk, smoke biting the tender pink insides of the nose as I dance. Awake. Awake. Arise.
Arise, blog and LIIIIIIIIVEEEEE AGAAAAAAAIIIIIN.
So I changed jobs, got married, had a baby, and changed jobs again. I lost my 40 min-each-way commute that forced me to read books and write blog entries and stare out the window at the hot-sun-glistening 202 and think. And the married thing, and the baby thing. Time consuming at best. Brain consuming at worst. But life seems to be falling into a rhythm again, and perhaps the time is right to blow the dust off this thing. Look at all those wishy washy words. Seems. Perhaps. Can’t you smell my fear of commitment? See my anxious sideways crab scuttle? But I never meant to leave you. Forgive me. Book reviews, general flashes of insight, delvings into pop geekery, and the occasional burst of linkage to darker depths of the internet lie ahead.
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