Two weeks ago my blogging software ceased working, so I couldn’t even warn the reader that updates would cease coming.
This afternoon, in a fit of procrastination, I thought: I ought to warn the reader that updates will not be coming until I port all my content to a new CMS, because Movable Type is a dead end. I ssh’d into my server, with the intention of updating the XML Feed and the index file by hand, but when I tried to autocomplete the path on the terminal I discovered the cause of the trouble:
I had run out of disk space.
And so I deleted some files and got things back in shape, and there was no need to update by hand, but I still feel that I ought to port all this content into a new platform, and I will resume my work logs when this is done.
I actually want to keep on writing to tell the reader what I’m currently working on, but I will censor myself instead with two-fold intention: to not squander any more time, and to orient desire and intention in the same direction. The desire is to write, the intention is to set up a new publishing platform. If the desire is satisfied and I begin writing here again, the need for the new publishing platform diminishes.
Though I may publish something, the work log will remain silent, at least until writer and reader encounter each other on the same page of a different book.