Chewie… We’re home.
That’s right, friends, compatriots, and scoundrels, I am back in the business of making a blog. It’s real, it will be short-lived as ever, and it is happening literally right now. We’re going back on Fat Nerd to Chic Geek because I truly fucking found all that weight I lost and a few more scraps that someone else lost at some point. I’m doing a thing I’m calling Pop-Dev, which is a not-entirely cute programming joke where I’m going to talk about cultural things and entertainment, specifically my express wish to create something therabouts. And I hope to have guest thoughts from smart people in my life, because I have an astonishingly absurd profundity of smart people in my life these days.
Some things you won’t see: we’re not going to have A Good Day for a Long Walk anymore, because I don’t get down for that shit. Who’s got the time? Netflix Dives will remain in the depths, may their unseen suffering end ere long. When I get playtests together for things, I’d like to take video, but it won’t have a special section or title. If I have time, I’ll separate a spot out of Pop-Dev to do a bit I’m thinking of calling Words and Sounds, which is about the interesting interplay between reading a book and listening to the audiobook interchangeably.
No one will be much disappointed with these changes, but I must announce them for I cannot help but keep things within. Change is inevitable, after all, in all things but the sum of mass and energy in the universe.
These days, things are different for me: I’m married! I married Katherine Elizabeth Crowe and she changed her name to Katherine Elizabeth Boyce because she loves me despite every deep wisdom of the ages that would advise against that. Lacking a deity of my own, I thank the universe, the Force, or whatever it is out there larger than my understanding for letting our paths cross these 42 months thence: she has enriched my life every day she has been in it. We got married in June and it was awesome, in the face of, despite, and maybe in spite of some very not awesome which is only properly relayed by us in tandem as a series of stories within stories.
We bought a house and got a dog! The former is Olmstead, the latter is Bruno, First Shadow of Olmstead. That’s relevant because I also have two cats, Tarragon, son of Tumeric, Lord of Lesser Tigers and Heir to the House of Olmstead, and the Lady Rosemary. That first one? That’s his full name, which I put on his application form at the Vet. They still call him Tarragon son of Tumeric as his full name, typically to Katherine’s face with giant beaming smiles.
Again, I’ll say because it seems prudent: she married me, of her own volition — after these facts had been established! So she’s a saint or a fool or both, which would keep her in good company with most other saints, I suppose.
Olmstead isn’t a fancy name for our house, it’s just the misspelling of Frederick Law Olmsted’s names that serves as the name of the road we live on. In a silly inside joke, we call it “The House on Olmstead,” but for a lot of reason “of” sounds better, so there you go.
I now work at Pew! No, not in a pew, I’m not an altar boy anymore (and, as John Mulaney would note, a hush falls over the crowd), I work for the Pew Charitable Trusts doing website things. I have, perhaps, gone full circle since the most heady and halcyon days of this blog, from working for a Non-Profit to several soul-crushing, for-profit gigs, back to what might be one of the largest Non-Profits in terms of reach and interests, at least, one of the largest based primarily here on the East Coast. I genuinely love it, even if the commute to D.C. from Baltimore means I’m given over to the Asphulgar, Lord of the Creeping Blackness, God of Highways, Traffic Snarls, Road-rage Induced Strokes, and Inventive Invective.
Shit it feels good to write again. I just created a fictional God that is more or less a portmanteau’d onomatopoeia of “ass” and “vulgar” but also shares subtle contextual definitions with “asphalt.” I followed it up with “Inventive Invective.” That’s not exactly an achievement worthy of a Presidential exhortation, but damn it feels good to be a gangster.
pourquoi, oui, mes amis :
les liens hypertextes en ligne, ils sont sublimes.