A few years ago I gave up my cell phone--well it was technically a year and a half I lived without using it, a year and a half my friends weren't able to text me with any ease, a year and a half that reaching out had to be done via email, facebook messages or that old analog way, the landline. I sometimes see writers undertake such an endeavor and it always seems to be some kind of thing worth writing an online diary over, like it's some addiction that needs explaining, like every moment is a possible memorable one throughout a day while not having access to your personal computer device. I mean, I get it, I do. I am one of those people who would sit in coffee shops not on the phone, sit in waiting rooms not on the phone, go to parks and sit in the park (also not on the phone), and I also drive NOT on the phone. I realize that things have exponentially become worse with these little devices we hold. I mean worse in terms of attention span and contact...it seems people feel the need to get their acknowledgment on social media, ...
Ugh. I know I can't be the only one feeling this swallowing, this uncomfortable engulf into the mouth of what the fuck that this country has become. Someone told me recently I was one of those people who seemed to be concerned with the welfare and well-being of others around me and it was something to be proud of, I suppose. My social media outlets, like yours, are largely unserious and truly fairly useless in the grand context of things, unless of course someone has changed their mind--but somehow I think changing one's mind is probably a different kind of undertaking than just reading something I have had to say about a given subject.
We are about to head into a dark place, I feel, a place which will probably feel heavy and dark through the Winter and into Spring...we have a lot of rhetoric over facts ruling our media these days and that's pretty gross. What is also gross is even with the world's knowledge held literally in our hands, it is hard to find what the fuck the truth is buried in heaps of bullshit, piled high depending on whose hands were fashioning it.
I feel the oppressive weight of ...
So I wrote this title several days ago--I cannot tell you how many half-finished pieces of my consciousness lie as unpublished posts, but it's not a small number and certainly not even close to representative of how many things flit through my brain as unpublished stories. I should also probably NOT publicly proclaim that I have never tried to publish a thing beyond the walls of this screen...
but it's true and given my ass is coming up on 40 this Rocktober...yes! Can you believe you have been reading the musings of my little mind since I was 25? I think there should be a record of oldest blogs and granted mine were initially published on other networking sites...before there were BLOGs....yeah--so guess what, I am an innovator in even just my own mind.
But I am thinking...and though really how many of you have really ever gone ALLthe way back....but I am thinking of unlocking the door on all of these posts, which you will have to actually scroll through the locate. YES. Open the fucking door and leave it ajar for anyone who cares to go in---but there are like what...maybe a few dozen at least?
But the initial intention of ...
