When I was five my best friend was a turtle named Samuel. He died early in our relationship. While I suspect a preexisting medical condition my indifference to the limits of turtle physiology may have played some part. His death proved little impediment to out friendship. Even while alive Samuel was not a dynamic individual, he largely spent his day sitting motionless in a shoe box obstinately refusing the bounty of processed cheese and root beer that I provided him. Occasionally I dragged him around my neighborhood on a leash, little turtle sparks kicking up from the bottom of his shell.
To be honest I didn’t realize that he’d passed until his head fell off on one of our walks. There were a few moments of grief and doubt: Was there anything I could have done to prevent this? I quickly decided thus is the will of god, retied the string around his right leg, and continued our walk undeterred. Days and limbs passed between us until only the shell remained, my dreams as hollow as my turtle, and I decided to give up the pretense.
Akin to this I used to have a different blog. I loved it and nurtured it and ultimately killed it with indifference. I dragged the shell of it behind me for years before deciding I’d be better off with a new pet. It’s hard to shed the nostalgia and emotional investment, but weighty things at rest are difficult to move. I’m going to try and publish on regular days (Sunday and Thursday) to hold my feet to the fire. Let’s get down to business.