Too much to do this last summer east of the Prime Meridian, too little attention to pay to doing it. Going offline in July for all but essential purposes (and believe me, there’s far too many of those).

I’ll still be reading and answering email, so if you need to get in touch with me, or if there’s a cute kitten / brutal Toronto policing video that I really need to see while it’s fresh, drop me a note.

Last year when I did this, I said we’d better have national health care when I got back, and it took another eight months. So I’m not going to say anything about the oil spill.

If you didn’t know already: I’m on twitter now, for all your ephemeral news and transitory complaint action; and now that Schwartz has ferreted me out I can own up to my Tumblr junk collection, Tired Robot.

There’s a whole mess of stuff I should be posting about; not to mention I need to get the old archives working, put the blogroll back together, and all like that, but it hasn’t been happening. One of the things I should be posting about is that I’m leaving Switzerland in August and heading for San Francisco — back to San Francisco, twelve years after I left, at least twelve years before in any hazy fantasy I would have imagined moving back. (California’s in the heart, Jack; wherever I go, she’s with me.) It’s going to be great. But that decision, and the circumstances leading up to it, have thrown all kinds of trouble my way that gets in the way of writing here, and of clearing my head to write here. It’ll happen. But not right away.