2600–Anthology of Me

I posted number 2600 without fanfare because I forget I was at that point. My forgetfulness notwithstanding, I think number 2600 deserves acknowledgement; just a tad bit of respect. I’ve spilled a lot of thought on the screen to have reached 2600. I suspect I’ve embarrassed myself many times over. The advantage of having virtually no readership is that my fumbles and stumbles and embarrassments are viewed by so few. Thanks, by the way, to those of you who have witnessed my many, many mistakes for opting not to call them to my attention. I know they are there; but thanks for pretending they are not. Perhaps I should be happy to have achieved number 2600, but I’m not. If I had written something worthy of having been read, it would have amounted to something. But I think this blog has become a repository of drivel. I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself, which merits nothing but contempt on the part of the reader.These feelings will fade. I will extract from these pages the gems, and I know there are plenty, that will be well-suited to a consolidation, an anthology, of me. I wrote, not long ago, that I should compile an “anthology of myself.” And I should, if for no other reason than to record the emotions that shape my view of the world from time to time.  An anthology of me. How odd, but how attractive…to me.


About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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