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Basically, I've decided that I have to write something - ANYTHING - on here or anywhere, otherwise I'm going to go mad waiting around to stop existing, and that's obviously not any kind of life.

Bogged down by social media's endless popularity contest and the strictures of screen-writing (my efforts there currently going nowhere), I'm producing this post, and possibly some others, as a type of grease to keep the wheels turning, the gears grinding. Consider it a diary of sorts. A traditional blog, if you will, harkening back to the joy of the early aughts and the freedom that came from being allowed to burble any old crap onto the screen in the certain knowledge that only a tiny group of people would ever read or judge it. Long sentences! Sub-clauses with commas! Serif fonts! An undistinguished visual design. Fuck yes. I can already feel myself relaxing into a warm tub of zero expectation.

The hero or patron saint of this blog for 2019 is the photographer Peter Bea…

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