A number of years ago I followed a blog set in an apartment above a restaurant in London, two gentlemen residing. Though it presented itself in documentary style, there was a whiff of fiction. I cannot be more precise, though apparently I was not alone olfactorily.

I say this because at some point, someone wrote in ‘Comments’, engaging an ‘I’m confused’ tone: There’s no apartment above the so and so restaurant. Knowledgeable? I suppose, still it struck me, as an acolyte of the Blanche DuBois church of courtesy that this was deliberate cruelty.

The blog in question was as entertaining and craftsmanlike as can be, and the author was always complimentary and encouraging of my own threadbare blog, so I was disappointed when it shuttered. As to the fiction question, I don’t know if the blogger ever came clean, or if there was clean to come to.

I asked a friend once if he thought that presenting oneself online generally amounted to fiction on the face of it. His reply was that since ‘curating’ was unavoidable, the answer was yes.

Now, since I haven’t come up with a post for the past five months, I’m considering enlisting Artificial Intelligence to carry on.  As a matter of fact, this very post may be the work of A.I., so ‘as a matter of fact’ may be the wrong way to put it…

Here is (or isn’t…) a photo of our backyard taken from the balcony yesterday; that’s a Japanese Magnolia there, which we haven’t seen in full bloom in years because typically the squirrels eat all the buds.

A pair of hawks settled in the neighborhood, squirrels vacated.  [applause]