Saturday, April 4, 2009


Every now and then, I get the itch to blog. But I lack the material or substance necessary to post something worthwhile. So I invariably (a word I heard a lot in college) like to ponder the abstract and come up with something more creative than substantial. You'll see what I mean in a moment (if you haven't already).

So far, the only thing I've done is blog. That is, I have executed the mechanical action of typing: composing (thinking, writing, editing, etc.) and posting-- all while soaking my right foot in hot water and Melaleuca oil to nurse a sore ankle after playing tennis this morning. But I digress.

With this my third paragraph, I have made precious little progress in affecting positive changes for the betterment of mankind in the world today. Cyberspace is several hundred alphanumeric characters more overloaded than it was twenty-four hours ago, at the hands of my complicit keyboard.

Perhaps today, I am more prose artist than practical activist--not that there's anything wrong with that (to borrow a trademark phrase from Seinfeld).

In these moments of quiet reflection, I am pensive about being pensive, and this is not a very lucrative activity to engage in. Writing for writing's sake (and mine) is a selfish pursuit. The Book of Ecclesiastes comes to mind. Where will this post finally end?

Just for good measure, I'm throwing in a link to the Pilgrim's Progress, and to Vanity Fair, in which Christian and his companion Faithful find themselves face-to-face with one town's worldly pursuits in all of their emptiness. I highly recommend the audio drama available at

Thusly, my blog post has ended. And on that positive note, I bid you adieu.
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