1. Site hits here don't desperately drop over the course of a couple of months of not posting. Mostly hits relative to images included in posts.
2. Sitting in a Caribou Coffee (a former employer) in Baltimore watching city folk. Just saw the first tourist family heading down to the inner harbor, science museum or aquarium. Bright colored t-shirts, hand holding, all looking tired - these are the signs.
Oh well, here we are. Thinking of inspiration. Interesting how the search for inspiration takes one to the past. What used to inspire me? What inspired me when I was more productive (maybe couple that with more/any free time...nah, couldn't be that, could it?) Anyway, works progress slowly these days. The very creation of work is in doubt. How to indulge poetic impulses when the world is shit?
Or maybe poetic impulses can be a refuge. Maybe. Maybe not. We can't know, though, because we can't get outside of the situation to look at it. We can only do. Or do not, as yoda might say...