Après le déluge

As many who frequent this wonderful site are aware, I am the once and future author of another, now all-but-moribund, blog. It featured an eclectic mix of poorly written political and philosophical screeds. My budding academic career (also now all-but-moribund) forced its closure, shuttering the blog and my all but inevitable climb in the upper echelon of the blogosphere. There, among the heights, were my blogo-heroes: yglesias (now on his 3rd funded blog!) and Kotsko (whose prescience locked up the epinonimous “weblog” for a title). These titans among bloggers, no older than ourselves, created the “blog” as a novel form of writing, as Homer perfected epic poetry, Sochocles the tragedy, and William Everett Gatsum the pseudonym!

But here, my friends, in this space, the grace and majesty of my keyboard, the breath and foresight of my knowledge will once again rise unshackled into the blogo-strato-sphere.

A rabbit rested within swaying clover and bellflowers, saying his prayers to a rainbow spied through a spider’s web.

Yet — this new space requires new thinking. Gone is the pedantry of the past, the cyncism of decline; Turn, dear readers, to a new page, fresh white starch soaking ink like a screen bleeds keyboard.

Beavers damned. Steam rose from coffee cups in small cafés.

Drink in the newness of it. The great absurdity of spontaneity and expectation. The moment when life overruns history. Wait on the brink, begging breath, daring not even to think.

Caravans left. The Hotel Splendid was built atop a chaos of ice in the polar night.

And in that moment pregnant with the future…