What’s important now is to write about something other than the fact that I can’t think of anything to write about. Somehow I need to avoid mentioning that I haven’t written a post in over three weeks. Under no circumstances should I discuss why I haven’t written, how I’m struggling even at this moment to come up with anything to say, or make any sort of excuse. And above all I mustn’t promise to start afresh, with new enthusiasm and profound dedication to make this blog a part of my day to day life. I definitely don’t want to do any of those things. The fact that most blogs have this sort of trajectory, early enthusiasm and then petering out, has nothing to do with what I’m writing here and now.

I’ve had lots of thoughts over the last few weeks about what I might write. At this moment I remember none of those except for the post I started three weeks ago and never finished. I remember that one because it’s still here awaiting completion. I may get back to it soon. Or I may not. We’ll see. It’s a good topic, I think. It’s a topic that is relevant to this post, an examination of the concept “fuckit”. It’s something that deserves to be examined, so watch this space.

Two years ago at Burning Man I saw a performance. It was introduced by an apology. The MC apologised to the large and enthusiastic crowd that they weren’t ready and there wasn’t going to be a performance that evening. He invited the “star”, a man dressed approximately as Jesus, to explain and make a personal apology. He came on stage and very sheepishly began his apology. It was pathetic. Then it became both pathetic and oddly rhythmic. Then the rhythm was picked up by a drum somewhere. Then Jesus began to sing his apology and bit by bit it because a song about there not being a show tonight. From somewhere there seemed to be other instruments joining in. The song built and built and suddenly about 25 women from the audience jumped onto the stage and joined in a choreographed song and dance number about there being no show that night. And they were really, really good. All of this took place in the middle of the desert and was rather unexpected.

Perhaps this post could be my way of replicating that performance. Out of the desert of having nothing to say perhaps I can fill up a few paragraphs that are surprisingly entertaining. Of course I’ll never know. Something that I find entertaining could be excruciatingly boring to others, and vice versa. So I’ll just hope. And watch the comments.

But I’ll never say “I’m back”. That’d jinx this blog. That just wouldn’t do.