Casting off

I've written most of my life - in one fashion or another, expressions from the solitary instrument played by the hand, whether on a receptive and luxurious pad, or 25 inch monitor, or in the cramped and cozy confines of a coffee napkin with doodles are sublime. If you've noticed the latest style of public discourse, in a political discussion as they are conducted for the interested masses, if any can be found who will listen to talking heads that are clueless heads - everyone talks at the same time. So, then even all but the most perfect conversational partner, often savory silences and precious rhythmic punctuations are abused. The loss of information, if discussing the bus route from Queens to the West Side, is not nearly as bad as a personal exchange where a sudden revelation of how to describe the texture two peppers and roasted tomato soup, is about to dawn. Or, maybe, affection slowly rises into view, and spreads butterfly wings.

All that clatter can kill, but it cannot invade the space where inscriptions fall, and others do not scratch and scribble. The aural channel entertains all contenders, but my ivory paper knows only my pen. Sorry, stay out of my head and off my pad until my thoughts are complete, and when they are finally set forth - then hack and flail, I deserve your cold gaze, and most intense shearing, if there is nothing between us that catches both on fire. But if something arises from a common truth, or if a catalyst appears unexpectedly, then please let its roots remain, and perhaps we can follow the vines where they lead from here.

So this is my blog, after all the years of saying I don't blog because Ive survived the Siberia of spreading petty thoughts, and found that I don't have to tell you everything. But the things that follow, I want to say.

The mariner "casts off", by removing the mooring lines and liberating the boat to become subject to the powers of wind, and current. However the more frequent use, if we allow the internet the influence it seeks, is to finish knitting.  We'll liberate the vessel and leave the knitting to those who do it patiently. I write furiously. It has nothing to do with knitting. If it did, people wouldn't pull all the strings and criticize so much. Id rather sail, any day of the week.

Happy reading, if you stay awake, But if you do, and even out of pity, invite me to your blog. No one wants to be stuck alone with their own "compelling thoughts" that have no echo in this world. It might just be the regular breathing of the human soul, but we speak in like fashion of the words that put us together, as we are. On to that now.