Substitute all the dining philosophers with blog posts waiting to be aired, and this more or less describes the situation.
Song of Myself
Do I not blogpost often myself?
Very well then I do not blogpost myself,
(I am large (you bet!), I contain many blogposts.)
Among the posts jostling inside are the following
- Random travelogue with pictures and so on of trip to parts south
- Long-ish thing continuing where we left off on the neural Buddhism thing, with brief detours into why religions suck, why it's not reasonable for well off middle-and-higher class types to run off to people like Sri Sri Sri (how many nowadays?) Ravi Shankar expecting peace and happiness, why there is no god, why there is a god and She is probably a Pigeon and so on
- Why we've taken to graphic novels in our dotage, and how it has completely flabbergasted and flummoxed us that we'd actually get interested in a new art form at this late stage in life
- A little something on Murakami's latest which being a combination of Murakami, writing, running, and Boston/Cambridge is utterly irresistible
- A review of A Sea of Poppies which we volunteered in a moment of insanity for well known Peruvian junkie but didn't do and instead got beaten to it by el Spaniardo
- Lots more Large Hadron Collider stuff, including the LHC rap thing which is hilarious and en passant I Will Derive which is also funny (but very nerdy)
And so on. It'll all have to wait.