We ran out of juice, didn't we? As I see it, though we post consistently, the posts are skeleton posts. Mine are nearly all hollow, and far-between at that. The last Apocalypse was in September. That is unforgivable. Two sonnets, one Conversations, Felix, Zanoc, and a painfully transparent filler nearly constitute my month. But for the Art series (which I'm enjoying) and a Michael (I have plans for that particular Angel), I abandoned you. I'm sorry.
Met's stepped up to fill the gap, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sense some fraying. Though he doesn't post every day, he fills all the gaps, and orchestrates all our other work. He's the one who yells at me at ten at night to post. I thank him for that. But with all of that, coupled with everything else that the season brings, he's dropped his larger projects for some time. I blame myself.
Qupar's next, I suppose, in seniority. Nothing since November. But the last Apocalypse was September, so I blame myself.
Elphaba's gone. I want her back.
Marim (and Met) may have saved us all. Coupled with Met, she continues to churn out new reviews with the clockwork punctuality of something both clockwork and punctual. But for an unforeseeable and (presumably) unavoidable drought early in the month, she has returned with a tour de force of reviews I still really need to comment on.
Xanthurian left before we started to depend on him, but perhaps his absence is safely in the grave now? My joy at discovering his post yesterday was unparallelable.
A certain MNTY has taken her own hold on the blog, while remaining teasingly aloof in her own fortress of blogitude. Yet she saved me. Twice. Because I failed.
We don't comment enough. None of us do. Met and I have projects I think everyone wants to see more of. No one schedules anything in advance. The tags are getting messy. We lack for traffic. Things are fragile.