The observer effect is self-evidently inextricable in the case of a personal blog; or, blogoir. Being so, it is a kind of tautology, I suppose, even to mention it. Can I remark on, or ever reflect on, my own mind without changing it?
Anyway, I haven't written here regularly since roughly four and a half years ago. And, mysteriously, most of what I wrote then has vanished. I suspect this vacuum to be the result of deliberate purgation, but I am uncertain.
I suppose I've already violated my unstated resolution to avoid fanfare. By merely mentioning my long authorial desert I have raised my own expectations, not to speak of those of anyone who even cursorily peruses this. Writing, for me, was then and for a long time an obsessive compulsion. Since that time I have existed in a sort of stasis, and as a person I'd never known before.
I now find myself living a sort of descendent reality. I was never one to put much effort into plans and schemes, but when, in my youth, I did bother to so much as slightly imagine my future, this is not what came to mind.
However - and to wrap up what was intended to be an understated resurrection - I am here fully intent on resuming my catharsis.
Here goes nothing.
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