It's 2017, boss, and I haven't written on this blog in four years. Where the hell has all that time gone, huh? I know a lot of it has gone into the kiddoes, into family life, into my career, into smartphone apps, into eating, sleeping, shitting and reading...not necessarily in that order.
Anyhoo, I felt passionate today and pissed it all away by falling into social media and slither.io ( a stupid, addictive game where one is a worm/snake that eats "mass" that is either just there or crapped out from the end of other worm/snakes... if you get in front of a worm/snake, they die and their mass is all yours for the gobbling up if you can fend off the others.) I should have taken the dog for a jog and read books to my boys, but no...I farted around on craigslist and looked at flights to Iceland, continued in my hopeless quest to find an Indianapolis 500 pinball machine I can afford.
But now I'm back, baby! I am starting up the blog. I don't think the title works for me, nor did it ever for that matter, but details, details.
I want to be a writer.
There. I said it.
I want the discipline of the written word.
I want to struggle and sweat over expression. I want my expression to express my mind to you, the reader.
Dear reader, I need you.
And so, I start up this blog again. For now, I am writing to me. But soon, I might polish it up. Poland? Huh?
ThinKing. What a clever word.
Let's get back on track. What is the title of this post all about you say? Well, I might have borrowed a box of everlasting gobstoppers from Logan today. And last night I might have eaten more stolen, I mean borrowed candy...sour patch kids. And as you may know, all that candy has dyes and food colorings and colorful stuff that makes your mouth turn different colors. I actually spit red, blood-colored spit this morning due to my imbibing of said sour patch kids. And my point....get to the point. Well, what happens to all those colors? Because when I pee, I never see any of them. When I poo, the color stays pretty much the same. Ain't it a neat idea if all the colors we ingest just sort of stay inside of us? Like on the inside we are all just giant, flamboyant rainbows. I thought it was a cool idea and perhaps some day I will do something with it more than just contemplate it. A poem? Short story? Writerly stuff, ya know?
This idea had percolated within me earlier today and I did nothing with it. In fact, I nearly forgot about it. Writers don't let that happen. I think they remember to write down these ideas. These ideas are me. They are you. They are us. They are golden. And even though nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy, you've got to try for your sunrise. You've got to start fresh and new and all innocent like. You've got to see the world through the omniscient all-seeing Emersonian eyeball and be aware of the wonders you are lucky enough to notice. And if you're lucky, you'll connect with someone else about it all. Laugh with the beauty.
And so, with little to no editing, we are back to posting blog entries. I want art too. So I'll post a cool photograph too.
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