The subject line says it all -- I haven't had the opportunity to share any of my holiday pics with people so far. So, without further ado, I invite you to click here.

I don't get it. I started this blog with all kinds of energy, and I have a number of friends who, having begun their own blogs, have taken to the medium as if they had this one last chance to say their piece before the final curtain falls. I'm speaking of KOD, WH, folks like them. Blogging is like the air they breathe.

And they blog about all things political. But that's not for me. Instead, although this place has always been about expressing myself in whatever fashion I think best, I find myself avoiding coming here; avoiding posting; avoiding contact. It's not that I'm tired of blogging or writing -- far from it -- it's more that I'm tired of the pain of isolation. Is blogging ultimately a self-deception? That is, is it an illusion of community that works to serve the solipsistic?

You know, I worry too much. Now that I think about it, blogging isn't "ultimately" anything. Nor is anything "ultimately" anything. It just is what it is.

I was listening to NPR this afternoon and they were talking about the recently deceased Philip Morrison, a guy who helped build the A-bomb. He was also one of the first people to argue for the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe. They replayed part of an interview with him, where he said that it was as likely as not that since there was life here, that there could be life elsewhere.

And occasionally, since my own awakening from the nightmare of theology, I think about such things. Why the hell are we here? Whence did we come? Was there ever a beginning? Why was there a beginning? Unfortunately for both us and Faulkner's Quentin, history is a nightmare from which we can never awake. Time is a mental construct that constrains us at all--er, times. I can't conceive of no beginning. And to posit a beginning is to posit a cause. I think. Although that may make me guilty of post hoc ergo propter hoc by default.

Whoever -- or whatever -- set all of this in motion has a lot of shit to answer for.

Say, I think I rediscovered my reason for blogging: it's to find ways to work myself up into a furious lather, of course!

Man, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Which is surprising, because the more things stay the same, the less likely they are to resemble one another.

Days are burning by, and we seem to be doing the same ol', same ol. I work all day, and Shel stays home all day. I come home, we eat, we watch something or other, and we go to bed and read. Some days I get up early to run. Other days I sleep 30 minutes later.

Weekends come and go, and nothing much gets done. We make a few gestures toward painting, cleaning, or other home improvements, but mostly we spend the weekend recovering and sleeping. Church is good, when we make it.

Not really meeting too many folks -- although we are making some inroads with people at church (however gradually). I wonder if loneliness is perhaps the defining characteristic of life in the early 21st century. (Author's note: please refrain from any cloying comments about the importance of community and the church's central role in shaping our experience as relational beings -- barf!) Our only friends at the moment are EW and SCW, with whom we do spend a fair amount of time. There's just so little time to spend significantly with other people. Mind you, EW and SCW are terrific friends to have. I think they deserve a post unto themselves.

I've spent a lot of time working on my Xbox the past couple of months. I've done all kinds of redneck stuff to it, right down to lighting up the jewel in the center of the cover. Pics may follow. Or not.

I just realized that one reason our house doesn't feel like home is that we don't have any pictures hanging. And why's that? Because we haven't painted the walls yet. Right now we are living with walls the color of an assorted Whitman's mint sampler. Aside from the pool-table-felt green of the bedroom wall, that is.

Weather has been simply marvy here in Oak Park the past couple of days: sun's out, temperatures in the 60s and 70s, and plants are beginning to bloom again. I'm given to understand, though, that this is unusual for April in Chicago. Normally, it seems, this month is a 30-day drearfest. Here's hoping...

So my article on international comics for Paste has appeared on their website, along with a couple of the Blacksad pictures. I guess that's my first time to appear on a website outside of a blog.

I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate CH on his getting a faculty position in the UT system. Way to go, bro. Where are they moving? It's a small Tennessee town not far from Kentucky, but cozy and neighborly, by all accounts, and a great place for the young'un to spend his early years. Now, if they can land a sweet house, they'll be set.

I'm training for the North Shore Half Marathon on June 12, and using Hal Higdon's Intermediate 1/2 Marathon training schedule. Right now I'm in Week 3 of the training -- finally I get to do speedwork!