Il postre is what the Italians will serve you post a feast that started with melon and prosuto and quickly slipped into a decadency of carbohydrates and sour cream. I am one of those people that starts a meal in order to get to the Il postres. I get nervous, disturbed, somewhat utterly dissatisfied, if my meal does not end with a does of chocolate or at least sugar somehow thermally modified. My friends know better than to expect to share sweets with me. I only have friends that like chocolate.
Somehow ironically I came to work in the "Il postre" field of politics and public occurrences of somewhat significant kind. A political scientist by education, I've spent sometimes too many, but overall too little, hours in analyzing things that happened, and things that happened after things that happened, and things that should have happened or could potentially happen after what happened. And just recently thought of this clever, borderline silly, metaphorical link between my taste for postres and my work in the a posteriori sphere of ....well, life.
So that's how A posteriori came to be. My intention in 2008 was to post analyses I write on here, but given my taste for doing things last moment articles I write seem to make it faster to the print media then to my blog. So for 2010, at least thus far, I’ve focused more on myself rather that on the public sphere. See, I’m a bit preoccupied with myself these days because there’re plans to be made. So I write. And I’ll write some more until I figure it out and can start paying attention to bigger things, and generally be a bigger person. What a utilized phrase.
TA-DA. The ribbon has been cut.
