Fighting myself over matters of principle the last few days, usually a bitter dastardly fight, I came to a conclusion. Conclusions are not a favorite of mine since they tend to lead to ideas, or, dear god, action. This one seemed sound however, and it was this: my writing isn’t, will never be, and doesn’t have to be, perfect. Going further, perhaps it doesn’t even have to interesting, intelligent, or intelligible. I believe it is a testament to my engorged ego that I though it mattered in the least, at least subconsciously. All this would be much ado about nothing except in applying these radical ideas to this website; I’ve decided to write liberally and regularly about almost anything*, ignoring my old rule: if it doesn’t cost anything, it isn’t worth writing. All in all, it’s still much ado about nothing, I know.*I will under no circumstances ever tell you about my new haircut.Ja.