It’s hard to pinpoint what’s ailing me these days. With such an expansive menu of global ills, where does one begin? And then there’s the mere fact of continuing to be alive—by which I mean, aging. Am I cranky because I’ve always been cranky, or because I’m turning 50 in a few short months and, despite my enthusiasm for continuing to be alive, crankiness is simply A Thing Now? (Or perhaps just A Thing I Do More Frequently Now?) But then, what about all of these global ills! Et cetera, et cetera, et merda. 

Whatever the case, my nostalgia levels are running dangerously hot these days, and in oddly specific ways. I miss the early days of the internet, when I could spend a few minutes either connecting with perfect strangers (who would then go on to become lifelong friends), or finding DIY ideas for house and home, or just learning about new things from new people. 

There’s nothing interesting anymore. There, I said it. There’s nothing left to mine, to pore over, to get lost in. Everything is various flavors of meh and of the lamentable, That was amazing when it was a new thing! I need a good new thing. Or fifty of them.

Listen, it’s just a slump. I know. To quote the early 20th-century philosopher Pete Clemenza: That’s all right. These things gotta happen every five years or so, ten years. Helps to get rid of the bad blood.

The bad blood, of course, being this emotional itchfest that feels like one has reached the end of the internet, but for humans and human life. Anyway! To quote the late 20th-century philosopher Shawn Colvin: It’s time for a few small repairs. First, I’ve created this space for blogging, on my own danged site, because everything out there that’s easy to use is terrible and run by human garbage, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to find other alternatives. Calling all my mental chickens home to roost, as it were.