I have gotten so horribly out of the habit of posting anything on here that I have very nearly forgotten how.
So, this evening I re-read some of my old posts to answer the question … what did I used to write about that was so fascinating?
Turns out: not much of anything.
As far as I can tell, I had become the premier specialist on writing lots and lots about very little at all.
I suppose that it was inevitable that I would eventually run out of nothing to write about, and that I would then be stuck with the unenviable task of having to write about actual things. Things that actually happened. Or things that people care about.
I shudder at the thought.
After all, it was never my goal to change the world with my writings.
No, my intent was to create a world that I could retreat to in order to escape the real world.
And if ever I needed to do that, it is now.