gone fishing: excuses for september

Here's a list of the September blog posts that haven't made it here for one reason or another.  I'm not sure if it's downright laziness or too much sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. Or if it's about being all blogged-out. Or if it's because of some existential malaise. Or if I can blame it all on the new-girlfriend, or lack of sleep, or generalized ennui, or — back to laziness.  I don't think it's laziness, however, so that leaves everything else.

But I do have them.  Written down, even.

Here are the titles:


—— What Jews do when they're happy


——  They suck petroleum d[u]ck


—— The good thing about Qaddafi


—— The sleep study


—— Upping meds / downing meds


—— That bummer happiness


—— my Kettler


The question is — does it matter if I write or don't write? Does anything change at all.  How self-indulgent is self-expression, anyway?  Oh. And is that last one bloggable or just worth fretting about while on the Kettler?  And can I blame the Kettler for lack of writing?  Is there anyone/thing available for a good blame?  And then there's the old why-bother?

School started.  That's really what September's all about.  School plus everything else.  Looking to get my sea legs back.  But in the meantime,

Gone fishing.