Crossing the line

Dear reader(s),

I'm actually kind of excited about this news, though I shouldn't be. The act of Not Writing is nothing to be proud of, and barely producing more posts this year than the worst year of content on this site (2006) is certainly nothing to brag about. But I am doing precisely that. I have written more than thirty posts. This year will not be my worst year. Hoo. Fucking. Ray!

That said my goal is more than that paltry number. Something over fifty-two posts per calendar year suggests that I think about this blog on the regular, and I won't shun it so easily for other pursuits like drinking and fucking. Writing over a hundred posts would reveal my designs on being a writer; writing over three hundred would mean I actually am one.

Which is to say: I may have failed, but I did not colossally fail. When historians look back upon this weblog (unlikely) and note my periods of high and low activity, they will not say: "twenty-twelve was the worst." They might say that "it was the second worst" or that it was "pretty bad" or something altogether negative, but they cannot assign superlatives like "worst," "least," "most pathetic" or "most impotent," etc.

Well, I suppose they can, but what I'm saying is: I've crossed the line. The line that failing students rely on when calculating what's the lowest grade that will still net them a course credit. It's the same line burnouts teeter upon when being drug tested at work. It's showing up to work minutes before your boss, or texting your wife from your mistress's apartment to wish her happy birthday.

But I have officially crossed that line. Thanks for reading.

Harvey