My cousin Anne is visiting this weekend. At one point, she asked about the longevity of this blog, and I admitted to her that my posting schedule has continued to dwindle as I’ve both lost interest and been sucked further into work and my personal life.  However, I also told her that I intended to keep the site open indefinitely, even if there’s not a single person reading, just to have an electronic “post-it” note upon which to scrawl whatever thoughts I feel like putting somewhere.

For example, Anne is currently sleeping on my couch while I sit across from her and catch up on work and email.  It is no surprise that she’s taking a snooze at 1:10 pm; yesterday we did a walking tour of San Francisco that started on Market Street and ended at the very end of the Wharf, and punctuated with a ride in a cable car that was so overcrowded that we dangled off the sides while we went speeding down hills.  “PLEASE PULL INTO THE CAR” the conductor shouted whenever another cable car came at us from the opposite direction, and we pressed up against a sitting British couple and tried to avoid being grazed, nicked, or squashed by the oncoming traffic.  All of this was topped off by watching The Faint at the Warfield (as well as their very perky opening act, Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head).

Anyway, the point is, Anne is now taking a nap over a copy of Junot Diaz’s The Brief, Wonderful Life of Oscar Wao that I let her borrow, and I notice a few things: