It’s only now, in a fever born of a withering cascade of chronic insomnia, I can look back upon what I am and how I came to be. Always anxious and unsure, contemplative and melancholic.
Well, my publisher recently informed me that the book I’ve long been slaving over for almost a year, is finally finished. I must admit that PostgreSQL 9 High Availability Cookbook is somewhat awkward as a title, but that doesn’t detract from the contents. I’d like to discuss primarily why I wrote it.
I’d first like to begin by saying I’ve written about this topic [intlink id="leviathan--story-time"]several[/intlink] [intlink id="every-little-thing"]times[/intlink] already. But while those were basically artistic impressions, this is an outright essay on the mild disquiet I feel every day while embedded in this society, and what probably causes it. I’m warning you right now that it’s exceedingly long… about twelve pages going by word-count alone. You’ve been warned.
In the world that we despise,
are there times of loss or wonder?
Toiling ever, full of lies,
sick of writhing, going under.