I felt a pang of guilt when I read William's last post. I felt like I had let him down, depriving him of inspiration (however unclear the inspiration may have been). But there's no point in dwelling on that; I haven't not written out of lack of desire, but out of a lack of time to think on anything coherent, and not wanting to merely offer a daily report of what I've done.
I'm writing this, though, to point out why William ought to be writing - because it delights us to read it. I don't claim to get the connections, or the point at all, all the time, but that's not why we enjoy William's commentary, written or otherwise. I'm sure that we'll still derive that pleasure from a "narrower and more serious" topic - though a food inventory might be beyond even William's talents - but I don't want him to lose sight of it, either.
"Too late or still too soon too soon to make lots of bad love and there's no time for sorrow. Run around, run around with a hole in your head 'til tomorrow."
-----They Might Be Giants
-----They Might Be Giants