The Worst is Yet to Come

Here, then, is to follow a patchy account of my travels and travails at home (?) and abroad, written at the request of Hampshire College’s GEO and the behest of a family that refuses to believe that I am alive and well unless I contact them on a regular basis to assure them of that fact.

This post is being written the day after the blue moon, and as my life consistently reads like a cheap paperback novel, written by someone doing their ample best to mimic the lessons of Hawthorne and Hemingway thrashed into them in primary school and utterly devoid of subtly, this would be a fitting date to reflect the rarity with which my posts will likely be made.  The fact that I intended to write this yesterday and didn’t get around it until the day after a blue moon should really only hammer home further the extent of my flakiness.

             This blog will, by necessity, be available to a rather wide audience.  It is for the benefit of Hampshire students considering the program that I am currently undertaking, academic advisors curious about my progress, and a diverse jumble of family and friends keen for updates on my welfare – as well as anyone else who happens to stumble upon it.  I could, therefore, dedicate great energy to making my notes relevant and appropriate for anyone likely to read them.  But honestly, I couldn’t possibly be bothered.  Instead, I intend to write whatever comes to mind and makes its way to paper, based on no criteria other than my personal interest in mentioning it.  Therefore, readers should be braced for content of a potentially tedious or offensive nature.  If this is going to distress you in some fashion, then, in the frank words of the late Hector Kipling, “You shouldn’t have fucking come anyway.”