I would like to say, with Elvis Costello, my aim is true.  But that won’t do. (“Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking/when I hear the silly things that you say.”)

My aim here is to write small essays, trials.  I intend for most of them to be no larger than a thought, to be no longer than a mood.  Even if my tone seems sure, my footing is not, and I know it.  As Montaigne confesses:

If my mind could gain a firm footing, I would not make essays, I would make decisions; but it is always in apprenticeship and on trial.

Maybe another way of puting my aim is to borrow Plato’s notion of serious play.  But I don’t know; maybe not.  Take the blog, anyway, for what it is:  a momentary natural history of my thinking.


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