Sunday Morning Thoughts: 11.4.18

This has become important for me. That is why it continues.

Perhaps, once, I knew an audience I was writing for. Broad, and yet more specific at certain points. This was once more a letter outward more than whatever it is now.

Or am I remembering incorrectly? Well within possibility.

But now, I type whilst still wondering who it is I am trying to communicate with.

I have an idea who this still reaches. And others, I ponder upon. And some are mystery, or worse, synthesized. But who consumes afterward does not do all that much to solve the conundrum as to why it would go on in the first place. And less to explain why it began. But that is history and beyond my explanation.

A younger mind thought different this one I hold now.

There was a pause in all this. This ‘weekly’ post. Between host monikers for about a year, I wrote nothing of this sort. Wrote nothing much at all, really. And not a time in which I remember myself well. Whatever it may have been, what it ended up being was not something I recall my performance as being spectacular. Depressed could be used. Pathetic, to harsher critics. Myself among them. Afraid in the eyes of the empathetic. Until it dawned upon me that the virus I had placed was inescapable now. I had grown addicted.

And after a year, I relapsed into this form of writing. And others, as well.

Yet.

All that does not rationalize why I write on.

I must be trying to reach someone, right? There must be a goal in mind. There must be an agenda. A scheme.

There can’t be a march forward without something to be gained.

Right?

Yet it is no one else’s thoughts I try to wrangle but my own. No one’s ear I mean to bend, not even considering how hard it be to bend with only visual tools. And each time I attempt to take consideration beyond my own skull, I get pulled back.

So then, it stands to reason… for this one at least… that I am doing little more than writing letter to myself. A public time capsule. Vastly less prestigious, but in the style of a one-man Voyager record.

The celestial probe. But not the band. Assuming that there is a band with such a name. Which there probably is. I think there is. Maybe? Using no paranormal powers, I’d call it a safe bet.

But this is little more than a crude interpretation of Thomas, Dylan’s words. Nay. I shan’t go gentle. I’ll hoot and holler and whine and moan until the breath leaves my lungs. Or mobility flees from my fingers. Gentle, my ass. I’ll be lighting fireworks as a drive away from this heap of a night.

Do not go gentle, he says.

Go big, or go gently home, I always say.

Well. No. I’ve never said that. But I might. A stalling tactic. Writing the attention away by the power of verbal dad jokes. Which I am dutifully allowed to do. Being a dad and junk.

I skipped last week. That Sunday was dedicated to arguing with myself, in addition to feeling like whatever the first negative word that comes to mind. Asshole. Dumbass. Dipshit. Etc. Felt ‘em. Got ‘em.

But if this is a letter to my vague future self, I had best get on with it. Not waste the time of the incalculable number that may read this. Incalculable on the small side, by the way. Can’t be accused of showboating. Inconsequential. Negligible.

So, hey.

Don’t forget all the things you’ve done while thinking about all that you haven’t.

Don’t forget those that are gone, if they were grand in being whilst they were.

Don’t get mad, if you can help it. And if you get mad, don’t waste it. And don’t abuse it. Not many folks get to use their rage, so if there is such a thing as fortune, thank it for giving you such might.

And be happy. Not artificially. Fuck that. I’d rather have the runs all day than deal with phony happy. At least one of them is being honest with me.

And be patient. Which is a funny thing to tell a man who has felt he’s been waiting for the inexplicable all his life… but do it. Not because good things come to those who wait. That’s bullshit. Some folks wait too long, some don’t wait enough. Trust me, I’ve been both.

Be patient because patient folks notice what those in a hurry miss.

And to contradict myself immediately, I’ll now tell you to get off your ass.

For though it may be true that good things come to those who wait- not a lot can be counted on to happen for you if you don’t make something happen for yourself.

So, go out there and find it, but be patient as you do.

Don’t want to miss something while you’re out there looking for who knows what.

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