(just after) Wednesday, September 5


It’s been months. In fact, it’s been the better part of a year since I’ve written anything I cared about much, or at least anything that wasn’t code. I think I’ve forgotten how. I don’t even know where to start.

It’s early September. The heat has been oppressive for months, and likely will continue for days or weeks to come, but today there was that indefinable texture to the air that suggests Fall as, if not exactly present, then nevertheless an impending presence, gathering itself just beyond the edges of the current situation. It’s cooling off at night now. It rained, somewhere in there, enough that the arid Front Range seems less wasted by drought than much of the plains to the east, where the crops are pretty well dead and an entire economy stares down conditions which would more or less destroy it if they continued long enough.

Anyhow, it’s late, I’m alone in this big, echo-y, hundred year old house, mildly drunk on gin + tonic, and it seemed like a good time to check in. Hope you’re doing well, the Internet. Maybe we should hang out more often over here in the old, dusty, simple, text-and-pictures not-very-social-at-all sort of places. You know, shake out the literary impulse and let the witty minute-by-minute bids for momentary attention sort of fade into the plentiful background noise for whole minutes on end.

I dunno.

p1k3 / 2012 / 9 / 5