Haven't been posting much. Feel strangely guilty, and also resigned to the fact that maybe the blog is another thing that will just fade out of my life as I move on to other things.
Strange, as there's lots going on; it's just most of it is interior and I'm feeling too tender to put it out there at the moment. I'm fine with the general no privacy stuff, but I suspect that writing about a lot of this blah will be tantamount to disgusting emotional exhibitionism, and only cause mortifying embarrassment at a later date.
But, this was meant to be a little post to make a small complaint to spring, and whatever vernal goat-legged satyr has capered across my grove, recently.
Now, look here, Pan, you hairy little bugger, I was quite happy in my gentle, asexual state. I had completely come to terms with a celibate existence, and was looking forward to several years of getting lots of things done with the diverted energy. Art of some kind. I really can't cope with all of this unfocused lustiness you've seen fit to bless me with, you sod. I'd like to be able to concentrate in meetings.