Six months later. Summer in Baltimore, steamy, dull, undemanding, trying to write two papers, one on charlatanism and 18th C literature, another on cultural studies as a discipline. The first is not going well: I dont feel I kinow enough to do it properly (though I am getting into Oliver Goldsmith and Christopher Smart) and the second I haven't started. But at least I sent off a manuscript for my cs textbook, which in th end I was less unhappy with than looked likely earlier on. It will be interesting to see how it will do: it is out of genre. But this note is just a taste, to get me back into the whole blogging thing. If I knew why I blog maybe I'd write more. I have been on my own which strangely makes me less likely to write, now Lisa's back I feel more communicative, have a a more concrete sense of the strange, empty blogging public: attractive because it doesnt exist except as possibility.