To-do list, and why its contents remain undone

Y'all might know how much I love certain things: Twin Peaks, D&D, heavy metal, Herman Melville, cats, Buffy, Philip K. Dick, Community, Ezra Pound, the late '90s, classical Chinese, wood panelling, comics, cigarettes, Zen Buddhism, the X-Files, und so weiter. So, you say (if "you" exist in an alternate universe where anything I say is somehow worth more than the late-night energy it took to write it), why don't you write something about it?

Good question. Long story short: I have nothing new or interesting to add to any of the thousands, or more likely millions, of words spoken and written about those topics. I can ramble on about how much they all mean to me, but that's pretty much it.

I'm cool with that. As time passes, the less I feel compelled to foist my opinions on the world, despite the sense that the world is often in need of some taste. I'll just be here, doing whatever it is I do, and should I be needed, y'all know where to find me.