This must be getting old. I’m sorry. But this is the last time—I promise. Years ago, when Jess started a new blog with each new phase in her life, I thought it was a great idea, a great way for a person to mark the end of a phase. The thing is, I’m all phases. I spend a lot of time in self-loathing, so I’m prone to wanting to shed. I guess I’ll just have to embrace the absurdity, accept it as part of who I am, and stay in one (blog)place for a while. So this is it. The title of the blog is a slanted reference to an essay by Albert Camus, and also a bloated “novel” by Ayn Rand. Maybe I’ll have more to say about that later.
The previous blog didn’t see much action. One hundred and twenty-eight posts in three years. That’s a slow week's production for Matthew Yglesias. Actually, the first year in Oklahoma I blogged quite a bit, partly because Oklahoma hadn’t killed my soul yet and partly because I had the election and its aftermath to rant about. But I posted exactly three times in 2010. I didn’t have anything to say that I felt like spending any energy on. I have more energy to say things now, and—even more to the point—I have the need to write. I’ll definitely have more to say about that.