Getting personal. I haven’t had a blog for very long, but I’ve asked myself 899 times approximately, ‘What do you want your blog to be?’ Is it a catch-all?
It can’t be. People read this thing. You weirdos. (said with affection, naturally) I am aware of that readership, most acutely either when I’m talking to/for them, or when I’ve done the opposite and put a part of myself out there.
Then it’s weird. It’s kind of… almost like.. exposing yourself to the public and waiting to see what the reaction will be.
Even though those things are hardly ever written for reaction. But maybe they are; I write, I have ego. While the act of revealing the self isn’t all that comfortable (or even noble) I like to hope I’ll do it well.
Why not put it in a real diary? Or… hang it all out there and write a book? You don’t hafta write about yourself to reveal your personal topography, anything that incorporates deep, personal experience or emotion gives that same pink, naked feeling.
I think… I think I still have trouble writing about anything else when a feeling is filling me up. Like, for example, a topic of some deep personal sadness had to be worked through a little over a week ago. Not because life is a big trauma-ward right now, more the opposite. A happiness was pressing in at all corners and I guess that stuff needed processing. It does from time to time. I have to make room.
I’m all ape-shit sappy now. I could go seriously sucrose in this space. My ecstasy has reached jr. high proportions. I wanna talk about the moon, the big, lollipop, heaven-white moon.
And no I don’t, either. Talking about stuff, it can fuck it up. Bad karma, maybe from the countless entries I’ve read when others were loopy-ass over some chick or dude and my wise and horrible inner voice was going, ‘Give them three months. She’ll be flaming this bastard up one cheek and down the other in the space of a Mets season.’
Yeah. Fucked up love.
Anyway this is for someone who probably won’t ever look at it here. But I’ll know. And maybe he’ll know in one of those sixth sense kind of a ways.
You’re really amazing. Tonight. Yesterday. You make me feel really good. I just plain old freakin’ adore you. How can that be? And ….it was really cute you skipped ‘K’.
Tonight, that big, white harvest moon is working overtime. And I feel like singing.