20180808.0430

It has been quite some time since I've put any prose, lucid or otherwise, into this webspace. Most of what I've done over the past more-than-a-year has been my series of limericks that worked to be something at least resembling a heroic narrative, and that seems to have ended, now. I might return to that kind of project in the future, of course, but for the moment, I'm going to turn my attention elsewhere. There are enough other lines of inquiry, enough other paths to take, for everyone to have something to follow again and again, and I think I'll wander somewhere different for a while.

The thing is, I don't know that I want to lock myself into essays here. I've been busy in my other, more formal, blog, attending to such things regularly and often, and while I used to do such things in this webspace, too, I'm not sure it's an appropriate venue for it anymore. Indeed, matters are far different for me now than when I used to hammer out 500-word pieces here (and when I could do so in some twenty minutes, which is no longer the case for me). I don't live in New York City, I don't have regular access to what I did then--or even, in the main, what I did when I lived in what I have to consider exile in Oklahoma. (Hm. Perhaps a reflection on that feeling of exile.) And I do not know that it is to my benefit to maintain both the other webspace and this one--and the other is doing far better in terms of readership than this.

Some time ago, I asked those who read this blog if it would make sense for me to maintain it and the other. At that time, I was told that it did, and so I kept this thing going. I've enjoyed having the outlet, to be sure, but I'm not sure that I don't already have the outlet on the other blog. I don't have much of anything here that I'm exactly keen to have hidden, after all, nor do I exactly abstain from making some...interesting occasional comments on the other blog. But I am not certain I want to let this blog go, either. I've been doing really well with it this year, in terms of keeping posting regular and thorough; I've not missed a day yet. And having more projects helps me to do more writing, which is a good thing. It can hardly but be. (Unless you don't like what I write, in which case, why are you reading this?)

Close to twenty years ago, now, I had to take a speech class in high school, and, for one assignment in that class, I memorized a passage from Hamlet. Not the soliloquy, no, but Claudius's later private lament (3.3); it has stuck with me, and I find myself in pause where I shall first begin, being to double business bound, either keeping hold or letting go. Advice will be welcome (though I make no promise that it will be heeded), and your continued reading, in this or other venture, is greatly appreciated.