Mi Mi. Mi Mi Mi. . .

Dance your cares away

Worry's for another day

Let the music play. . .

Midway through surfing youtube last night (first, for Johnny Cash, then the Swedish Chef, then Steve Martin banjo-picking) and just after reading a Wikipedia entry on Fraggles, I found inspiration to blog again. About my favorite topic:

A variety is said to be the spice of life, and as my days have been filled with that material, that is the cause why I have thought proper to make this rough outline, that my posterity after me might know what trials and tribulations a roving disposition is calculated to bring upon a person who indulges a thirst for traveling. --Addison Pratt

So begins the Journals of Addison Pratt. And, being "posterity", possessing "a roving disposition" and frequently indulging " a thirst for traveling", I was immediately captivated. Although it may be difficult to be any less captivating than my first foray into the blogosphere, this re-launch, strictly speaking, is pointless. It may be useful. As an avocation. An outlet perhaps. But really, I'm not aiming for anything in particular. There is no point.

Addison wrote the above foreword to a lifetime's attempt at journal-keeping while under house arrest in the South Seas. Someday I may also assess the themes of my life, arrange them, or decide what, from those themes I can determine is calculated to happen to others and frame my musings accordingly. For now, I aim at nothing. So don't expect much.

At most, this new blog will be a rough outline of my travels and perhaps the trials and tribulations my roving disposition and thirst for traveling bring about. At least, it will be a voyage into idleness and irreverance. Beyond travelogs and far-off photographs, there will surely be some Mother Hips. Buffalo Creek. Cormac McCarthy. Letters. Languages. Comedy. Sports. Maybe even the odd head-nod to Fraggle Rock. But nothing heady: not much philosophy, law or religion.

In the name of Idleness and Irreverance, then, let me kick this off with the Swedish Chef, and a distant memory of meatballs and lingeberries in Malmo with Lil' Brudda: