Every few years, a new step in this awkward dance of privacy and revelation. We're trying a new arrangement in which www.metameat.net persists as an expansive subset of these entries, especially as they relate to Books and their Writers, thus serving as public mask and Google decoy, while atem.metameat.net is the same as ever, plus the odd item I wish to share not with the world but with you. I don’t think it much matters which versions are linked to, or put in blogrolls, if there are any blogrolls now.
Two days ago I had a bad spell chopping potatoes. The act of severing the potato from itself became all at once metaphysically stupid and horrible, I fell down on the linoleum and shouted that I couldn’t go on. My daughter made dinosaur noises in sympathy from the next room. I love my daughter. I gave her a hug, my wife took over and I went to bed.
Today I took the train. Electric white bay under clouds. That was new. Jeden Tag was Neues.
Metaphysics is jealous of food & always has been. Smile, nod, let it go its way.