I’ve had several hiccups in writing my blog and they usually correspond to some philosophical morass I’m crossing, slowly crossing. I grew tired of writing about news items and politics I can hardly stand to think of. Much less spend time writing about. Then there’s quirky funny nonsense. I like posting that kind of shit but at the same time I have no heart for it. And so many people concentrate so fully on it in their blogs that I can’t compete. I don’t need to. It’s been done already. Not that this blog is a competition. It’s largely a vehicle for updating distant family members on our doings. A delivery vector for photographic information. And then I think I want to put my writing on here. And so I do, and I like that, but then it’s tough to find time, to get it polished enough to post. And I want to write about tennis and training and writing and Clem and our move. But for some reason don’t. If I write personal philosophical material of soulful introspection I have to then read comments telling me not to think too much, it’ll be fine when I’m older. And I think, yeah because you’re fine. You’re so fine you’re about to catch fire. Still there’s the news and politics. This whole middle east melt down is bound to be good for a few laughs. David Cameron is a dick. Obama sure needs some new spin doctors. No. I just can’t. So what is it I want to say? Something positive. I want to make people feel good. I want to bring them to me. What the hell do I say about myself to make other people want to be here? Or maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe… Hey. You interest me. Tell me about your self.