Holy Christing Fuck, but it's been a while, hasn't it? I have may excuses, most of them very good, for not posting, but what it really boils down to is that being in a year-long funk robs one of the desire to write (unless you're Charles Bukowski, or something).
Thing is, as I lie here in the living room on a Friday night, with cats running up and down and everywhere, I realize that all of the writing muscle that I built up over the Rambler's peak years has turned to flab. My chops are gone! Math moved into my brain, worry by its side, and wit and opinion fled for the hills.
In other words, my brain did a trade-off: toss aside the things that you're good at, and maybe you'll be able to learn some new skills. Just so long as I didn't have to face Darth Vader under a tree, it seemed like a fair trade.
But, I dunno. I've figured out that the thing that's harder than Chinese Algebra is Korean Calculus, and it owns me like few things have before. And I feel a little like Albert Finney in Shoot the Moon, having tossed aside familiarity and comfort for a little fling, realizing perhaps too late the idiot bargain I've made with myself.
The one thing I didn't think would happen with all of this new information crowding into my brain is that it would render me intellectually sterile, but somehow, I was smarter when I knew less.
D.
