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A Full Deck

May 17, 2012

This is the fifty-second post on this blog. It took a while to get here. I hope to deal out the second deck more quickly and smoothly, with fewer flipped cards and an ever more honest chicanery. Looking back, I don’t know how I ended up with this set of posts. Much that was intended was not realized and most of what was realized was not intended. One surprise is the photographs. I had no intention of trafficking in images when I began, but it is seductively easy to do, or seems to be until the formatting becomes inexplicably difficult. I saw the Franz Boas photo in a book and felt it was absolutely necessary to post it, and then I started to think of other pictures that might go with it in a series. Boas, the ethnographer of vanishing cultures, brought to mind a few haunting seconds of black and white film I saw as a kid on a David Attenborough show, footage of the last known thylacine, a marsupial predator of Tasmania. How fortunate to find a photograph of it caught in a yawn. It died in the Hobart Zoo in 1936. Other photos followed as they became intuitively apt.

The photographs seem the main source of random visits to the blog, particularly from overseas. These visitors must be disappointed, since those posts provide no unique or original content, just the pictures from other sites Google will direct them to, but it is nice to have them help fill in the world map WordPress provides on its Stats page to show where you have been viewed from.

The beauty of a blog is that it requires no justification. A bastard in this world, it roams free of all claims, showing no papers and giving no name but the one it chooses. If it pleases its author, or if it doesn’t please him but he accedes to its demand to be brought forth anyway, then it need please no one else. Nonetheless, I very much hope that any readers I have will find something for them here, something that will, maybe in some very slight way or some mysterious way or even a surprisingly practical way, do them some good, as I have been done good by so many of the freely given expressions, productions, and emanations of others. At the very least, I hope to avoid being hurtful or libelous, and if I am, I beg your pardon, surely I was joking (some exceptions apply).

Until recently I had no computer of my own to blog from. But now my laptop is finally repaired and that should enable me to post more, and also allow for exciting new possibilities such as drunk blogging, porch blogging, drunken porch blogging, and spontaneous nocturnal emissions of blog. Subverbo (The Blog) is just beginning, its irruption into the fabric of reality only the smallest of  tears so far, just a mosquito bite on the ass of an elephant the size of Michigan, or, more constructively, an anthill in the Mojave desert. But someday the tear will widen to a patchworthy rip, the mosquito morph into a frighteningly large botfly, the anthill grow into a termite mound. The first deck has been dealt but the game has not yet begun. And that game is War. Or possibly Go Fish.

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