My brain is too full of messy, slippery tangents. The problem is, they won't just stay small and concise and expressible; they must wander and linger and morph suddenly into much riskier territory. But these are the things that keep me (us?) up nights, that give vital but intangible flavor to the days. I HAVE to write about this stuff. I can't escape being a writer, even though much of what I think is confused and will never see the day. And the silly part (the idiosyncrasy for word-smiths?) is that these are not "meanderings." They are always reasonably well-formed mental essays, with thesis, sub-points and supporting detail/examples ready for prime time. They're always something I could spiel about for hours and eventually make a point even earthlings can appreciate.
But there is never time. I used to imagine "the Blog in my Head," or that somewhere floating around is the sum total of humanity's unexpressed musing, the things we hadn't time to commit to hard-copy, and that someday somewhere we'll all have access to that great anonymous cosmic record. And we'll have the lovely realization that our crazy midnights rants were understood, shared, and validated.
But I don't really have patience for all that. So, while constrained by this annoying temporal cage, this busyness of surface life and servantly minutiae, I'm just going to post headings. Hopefully I'll get back to some of these threads some day . . .