What you read yesterday, and are reading now, are my attempts to start placing all of the vignettes that have been floating around the ol’ cortex in print.
The title of my outlet here is Bloggerel STL. Doggerel is writing with little or no redeeming literary value. My Blog promises to achieve the same standing.
And the STL on the end? It’s only there because some enlightened, rapturous creature like myself actually beat me to the title of Bloggerel. I added the STL to allow stalkers from other countries to zone in on the source of these etheric words.
My promise to you is to give you my very best words. Not of it will be great. (Hey, even Shakespeare wrote some crap!) It may be funny. It may be brooding. It might be real. It might be bullshit.
But I won’t tell you… you’re gonna have to figure that out on your own.
My target is 3 writings a week. Feel free to call me out if I start slacking.
If you want to keep reading this stuff, that is.
And finally, the freebie theme that I picked from WordPress is called Hemingway Rewritten.
Ha! Poor Papa. Hopefully he doesn’t know that a writer of my caliber is now linked with his name. If he does find out somehow, he’ll start looking for all the pieces of his face just so he can shotgun them off again.
And I will finish this little intro with the words of Artist Ze Frank. Ladies and gentlemen: An Invocation for Beginnings.
I’m scared. I’m scared that my abilities are gone. I’m scared that I’m going to fuck this up. And I’m scared of you.
I don’t want to start, but I will. This is an invocation for anyone who hasn’t begun, who’s stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.
Let me realize that my past failures at follow-through are no indication of my future performance. They’re just healthy little fires that are going to warm up my ass.
Let me not hit up my Facebook like it’s a crack pipe Keep the browser closed.
If I catch myself wearing a too-too (too fat, too late, too old) let me shake it off like a donkey would shake off something it doesn’t like.
And when I get that feeling in my stomach you know the feeling when all of a sudden you get a ball of energy and it shoots down into your legs and up into your arms and tells you to get up and stand up and go to the refrigerator and get a cheese sandwich, that’s my cheese monster talking. And my cheese monster will never be satisfied by cheddar, only the cheese of accomplishment.
Let me think about the people who I care about the most, and how when they fail or disappoint me… I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best in them.
Let me find and use metaphors to help me understand the world around me and give me the strength to get rid of them when it’s apparent they no longer work.
Let me thank the parts of me that I don’t understand or are outside of my rational control like my creativity and my courage. And let me remember that my courage is a wild dog. It won’t just come when I call it, I have to chase it down and hold on as tight as I can.
Let me not be so vain to think that I’m the sole author of my victories and a victim of my defeats.
Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project onto what I do is neither my fault or something I can take credit for.
Perfectionism may look good in his shiny shoes but he’s a little bit of an asshole and no one invites him to their pool parties.
Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic, but when the intent is evil, that’s what the block button’s for. And when I eat my critique, let me be able to separate out the good advice from the bitter herbs.
There are few people who won’t be disarmed by a genuine smile. A big impact on a few can be worth more than a small impact
Let me not think of my work only as a stepping stoneto something else, and if it is, let me become fascinated with the shape of the stone.
Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far and put it to bed. What I am about to do will not be that, but it will be something.
There is no need to sharpen my pencils anymore. My pencils are sharp enough. Even the dull ones will make a mark. Warts and all. Let’s start this shit up.