Glorious, I haven't written here in a while.

Part of it, I suppose, is that I've become incredibly disenchanted with anything related to 'social media'. While I never cared how many 'friends' I have on X page, I've really begun to wonder how many of them are actually friends. While some have moved away, I have to admit that there are very few I see face-to-face anymore, let alone have a conversation in 'real time'. Leaving comments on walls or pictures or such reminds me too much of living in a house with a bunch of roommates, and only communicating with them through post-it notes.

Passive-aggressive, even on friendly terms?

Blogs... everyone becomes a 'writer', everyone has something to say. Just now as I type this, the phrase 'meaningful exchange' comes to mind. When's the last time you've had one of those? Who goes out for coffee anymore, without a laptop or iPad or whatever? We as a 21st century society are hiding behind computer screens and plugged into mp3 players, whether we are at home or out in public, afraid to truly interact with our fellow human being, afraid of being wrong, afraid to be challenged out of our little bubble or reality, afraid to be sucked out of our safe complacency and into the vacuum of options (does the word 'freedom' sound familiar?).

So why am I even on the internet? Maybe I see it as a gateway drug, and as a gateway I'd like to see if one can go through it from the other direction, successfully and with minimal jaded after-effects. We've gone into this electronic world, perhaps we can come back out. Perhaps... we can gain back some of our humanity.

I highly doubt it'll happen, at least not on a whole. As a species we are too weak rise above our addictions, to do anything that isn't easy. But personally I'd rather maintain connections with people who see this electronic age for what it is... and enjoy a cup of coffee with them.

PS. I'd rather be having this conversation in person, by the way.

Wide and Spacious is the Road More Traveled

Rubber necks with springs,

whiplash leads to bragging rights

in between mouth-breathing,

fly-catching name brand forkfuls

super-sized single servings

within an elbow pivot's reach.

Reigning supreme at the top

of the food chain, the

Tyranasaurus Rex of this millenia,

one would think a thick skull

would prevent head trauma brain damage,

But if it's within an elbow pivot's reach,

there's a detour right over the cliff,

all in the name of freedom, free fall,

gravity is a killer, the devil, the enemy

of liberty, everyone's got a little

gravity in them, denial of that sin,

spectacles testicles wallet watch, pious

within an elbow pivot's reach

forget what's been taught, no one's

watching anyway.

Only looking to see if you're looking

love yourself as you'd love no other, theoretically.

You are the armchair quarterback, and it's all

within an elbow pivot's reach.

34

I don't get asked for my I. D. anymore

but band names get thrown at me

with a hip new left hook.

I couldn't tell you what 'new school' is

when I'm not even sure what school I'm in.

Or maybe I already graduated

and someone forgot to tell me.

I'm sure I would remember walking across the stage,

that moment of arrival,

and that piece of paper, embossed with seals of approval-

assurance of a job well done,

an invitation to move on to the next stage in my life.

Entrenched in the third decade

I had hoped by now that I'd have figured it out

but I'm just as loin-driven as the first ten.

(My face doesn't give that away, like I said

I don't get asked for my I.D. anymore.)

It's as if my purpose in life no longer has

a purpose of its own,

now an empty ritual.

Might as well call my life a religion,

pass out the Kool-aid and foil hats,

and tell you the true mysteries.

Just enter your credit card information first, of course.

Even this ink is futile, there is no grammatical tense to live for.

I must have left my personal validation at home, officer.

Testing the MMS.

Testing the MMS.

Testing the mobile option.

How many fresh starts are allowed in a lifetime?

If I thought about it long enough, I'm sure I could come up with how many online journals I've started, how many I've abandoned, how many I still have, and probably categorize them as to what purpose they have.

Hmm, I think this one is number ten. Give or take a couple.

But this one, at the flagship Blogger, was a premeditated one, one that lingered in the back of my mind for at least a year, maybe two years. It was one of those "you know, I should make one there," but resisted an impulsive signup and detail fill. After doing the YOTB project, I felt it would be a disservice to slickness of this blog site.

And as anyone who knows me would tell you, I don't do anything without some sort of methodology or purpose behind it, even if it appears random and impulsive.

What will I do with this weblog? I could speculate and fantasize about it. Perhaps I'll give out the down low on the various circles I'm associated with in all of its unbridled glory (something I've never felt completely free to do, probably has something to do with the bad habit of writing to the reader). I know I will not waste kilobytes filling out surveys or other chain message "meme" head space killers. That would be a disservice to myself, and to those who may be looking for quality writing.

Writing, yes... everyone now not only knows someone in a band, but someone who's a writer, thanks to the internet and computers. Any schmuck with a computer and the right software has a "band", and the same is true with writer schmucks.

This begs the question, "on what authority can you be so critical?" Well, I'll tell you right now that if anyone is going to put themselves in the spotlight, they better expect thrown rocks, and develop a sense of humor real quick. If you can't laugh at yourself, you've no business laughing at anyone/thing else.

And I'm not asking you to agree or disagree. I'll let the world speak for itself.

Welcome aboard.