I love to write letters. 
I’m good at it. People who receive letters from me like them, at least most of the time. I could speculate after why that is, and I have. I actually spoke with a friend at length about that very subject this evening. Well, he’s not a friend, a work acquintance, a mark, someone I hope to get something out of by charming him and proving my worth to him. The worst kind of relationship. Transcational, but only I really know how transactional it is. Digusting. 

I thought about changing the format of this blog from my ramblings to letters. I’m just not sure to who those letters might be addressed. Future Roby maybe? Future me? Past me? The Corinthians? Jack? A nascent Orthodox man and a somewhat more mature Catholic cutting it up about fatherhood roleplaying games and living in the woods of Vermont?

I feel not great about the fact that my chief concern is how to make it into a product, how to scale it. Money is tight, the economy’s bad and going to get a lot worse. I’m worried about it. concerned, even. 

But we’ll make it through, and I’m going to change this blog to be letters