Now We Are Three

I just noticed that Buffoonia's third birthday has came and went. Traditionally, I celebrate by indulging in a bit of arch self-mockery about my method and madness, and offering a slightly less fanciful shout-out to my worthy constituents.

Not this time, though. Anyone who's stuck with me over the last year deserves something a bit less theatrical.

This has been a stressful year, personally and professionally and politically. It's been hard to think, and to write, and almost impossible to do both at the same time.

Part of the problem is my own personality, which, as I've pretended to overstate before, is hopelessly melancholic. Beyond that, though, it's become clear to me that what's happened in the last few years - during and after Hurricane Katrina, especially - has pretty much broken my heart. I've consciously indulged my tendency towards abstraction since then, partially out of escapism and cowardice, but also because I felt like I had an obligation to rethink...well, everything.

The positive side of all this is that I've had any number of longstanding preconceptions challenged by any number of absolutely brilliant people, whose exemplary goodheartedness assures me that whatever I become will be far better than what I was.

RMJ, for instance, has gently forced me many times to reconsider pet theories, and to forego premature allegiances (the proof is more in the absurdities I didn't write than in the ones I did).

I could say much the same of Thers and Rorschach and Echidne, but that's less important to me than my conviction that they're family.

There are plenty of people in my blogroll who are equally thought-provoking and inspiring; listing them here would be a waste of time given that I've listed them there. And I'm also very grateful to my commenters, who've reassured me many times that I'm not mad...or that if I am, I'm in exceptionally good company.

Drop in and say hello, if you feel like it.

Thanks, and may we all meet at last in better times.