You asked for it (some of you). And it was good.
Hello.
Some of you asked for it. Most of you didn’t. But in any case, here it is:
http://timothylesle.blogspot.com
I’m officially unveiling my brand new blog. Take a look at it when you’ve got a chance. If you look right away, maybe you’ll see this very message, which I’ve conveniently posted here so that you don’t have to keep reading on your old-fashioned e-mail apparatus (for those of you who received this in an e-mail).
Apparently, if something on the internets is in some kind of introductory mode, people like to write the word “welcome” in every possible language on the Web page. (It would be too mean to actually link to one, since they’re all so well-intentioned.) Well, I don’t know every possible language, and though there’s nothing wrong with being so welcoming to my Cambodian readers, I just am not doing it. Newscanarias does, and should, do it in three languages, because Spanish, German, and English are dominant on the Canary Islands. But I’ll get to them sometime in future, in reference to the tsunami that will probably hit the East Coast.
Nor do I plan to write a blog entry about nothing, e.g., “Oh, nothing much happened today.” Why do people do that? What might happen instead is that I’ll be too bored or busy to post, in which case you won’t even know about it.
But there will be so many other excellent things to read about or see at http://timothylesle.blogspot.com (until I get my own domain name). Topics like pandas and suicide and public transportation (those will be separate entries, kind of), and Will Smith and China (again, likely separate), and books and art and photography and conspiracy. Plus, you’ll see when I finally give in and sell out after I’ve clicked the button to turn on Google AdSense.
Let me know what you think, or if you have any ideas. Those are what Tad Friend asks for to inspire his Letters from California for the New Yorker, ideas from people who actually live in California. (I’ll get around to posting on him, too.)
Until then, content (i.e., prepare) yourself for a lot of digression. Because the next time I drink a pint of IPA, it will demand some notes on 19th century imperial trade between Britain and India, leading to a greater thesis on marine commerce that, if I have any sense, will touch on Sindhis, Norwegians, Candian hydroelectricity, and one of my former geology professors. Or I’ll just spell out an account of me rubbing my hands in anticipation of a potential feud with the owner of my old favorite, Magnolia Pub and Brewery.
See? How can you resist?
