Somebody bought me a permanent account — an anonymous person, in 2005. And I really would have stayed there as people left in droves, through thick and thin, through changes in format and bad service and whatever. I had all those years of journal, and I had a friendslist where I could see how people were doing, even if it wasn’t as vibrant as in older times and more people were lured away. But I can’t take terms of service that mean I can’t talk about politics and I have to put warnings for any mentions of any LGBT stuff. That’s just unacceptable.
Six transit gloria internet. I still miss usenet. Well, we go forward.
We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.
Tom Stoppard, Arcadia.
I have just spent the entire day doing triage on fifteen years of posts and putting any of them that were worthwhile here. (The poetry was here already, in the poetry section.) I didn’t bother with the wordcount posts, or things I thought were trivial. Sometimes I’ve consolidated things — like making all the posts about one trip into one post for better chronology.
I will be posting here. It’s in my control, and nobody will suddenly change the terms of service on me. I don’t know how often I’ll post or whether anyone will be reading. I’ll try to figure out how to turn comments on for this blog bit only, without turning them on everywhere.
All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.
