Li'l Raskol

So I started my Summer of Dostoevsky this week but through a case of bad schedule management this is also the week of the annual Summer Attempt at Doing Real Exercise Outside in which I've reached the "Oh my god I can't believe I'm still doing this, when can I go back to being a video game playing lazy ass who eats the entire f'n bag" stage, so that by the end of the day, after work and the physical-moving thing and cleaning up and expending the last of my energy for the day on eating something that might have some semblance of nutritional value, when I try to sit down with good ol' Uncle F to tha Y-O-Dor I'm pretty much both baked and fried crispy. In five days I've read seventy pages. I am so weak.

Needless to say, I've also slacked off on blogging, but that's okay, because blog post frequency doesn't matter anymore:

Daily posts are a legacy of a Web 1.0 mindset and early Web 2.0 days (meaning 12 months ago!). The pressure around posting frequency will ultimately become a significant barrier to the maturity of blogging. Here are 10 reasons why.

Word! Word, I'll go so far as to say, up. So from now on when I disappear on these retarded little excursions of mine into real-world activity--don't worry, the exercise thing will go away soon I'm sure, I'm already like three days past my expected attention span for this sort of thing--don't think of it as me being anti-productive, but actually as me being the saviour of the internet. Oh yes: my will be done. Where my will right now equates to my very soon becoming impossibly comfortable once again with my own lethargy.

(Link, incidentally, via Jim Eastman, who is a far better blogger than me. Exhibit A: his thoughts on coffee science and coffee culture. Exhibit B: pondering his first two hundred and ten minute DJ set. Exhibit C: his recap of the Detroit Electronic Music Festival.)