Haven't found it helpful to stop writing. So this will continue to be what it's always been: a record of my bewilderment. Now, more bewildered than ever, disappearing is dishonest.
Also it's been nice to revisit this archive—an anthology from a year of my life—and I imagine with satisfaction continuing it permanently, if only for my children, as the distance between us inevitably increases over the years.
And I've read some good books recently and I'd like to think about them, now and then. (Life, by Keith Richards, was fantastic.)
So the punchdrunk boxer officially announces that he's coming out of retirement (once again). Pretenders: you've been warned.