Meaning is relative. And this space has little.

Unless, as one might suppose in entering the eighth year of a rambling personal blog, there is meaning to be found between the strings of text encoded here. In that way, Bradgarten is nothing much more than a mere tangle of text. Perhaps, even, it is a textbook of those days past. And though one might read a lot here some of it is crap and the rest is bullshit. I know. I wrote it.

But what kind? Sometimes I vent. Sometimes I speculate. Sometimes I rant. Sometimes I prognosticate. Often I fill spaces with musings of little interest to anyone but me. Usually there is a case for pure narcissism.

And, always it is just strings of relative meaning. Thus, readers be warned.