I’m back, and I’m as deadly as lunch at Itsu Sushi.
Actually, that’s not strictly true. It’s not even loosely true. In fact, I am forcing myself to write this, a gun held to my own head, lest I never write anything again. Every day I see my site’s visitor traffic flagging like an ageing Lothario’s libido. The few regular readers I have are becoming less and less likely to check for updates. That picture of the tumbleweed below has taken on an eerie resonance, as life imitates blog. It’s heart wrenching, like watching a family pet waste away. Rot is setting in and the longer I leave it, the more difficult it becomes to get back into the swing of things.
As recent blogging activity (the sum of fuck all over the last month) will testify, I have had zero appetite for writing of late, to the point that any attempt to do so produced nothing but an overwhelming wave of sleepiness. This could be seasonal: Citizeness Sane thinks I might suffer from SAD, but I’m not convinced. The fact that I have had a cold for something like seventeen years hasn’t helped, either. Or it might just be the ever-encroaching lethargy brought on by getting older and complacent. We have also been busy sorting out our house, which is currently being decorated, and the whole place is a complete pigsty. Chuck in numerous boozy nights and feeling like shite the next day, and you get the picture.
This is passing now and I hope to get back to it this week. Consider this post my first foray back into emptying my brain onto the screen and satisfying the resurgent need to mind-vomit at least a couple of times a week. Something akin to intellectual masturbation.
Anyway, few readers, your visits to the blog are appreciated. Readers are always good. Otherwise it’s a bit like screaming in the dark. Therapeutic, but solitary and pointless.
But enough of this. Let us turn to other matters at once.