Full Moon Madness

Every day I take a moment or two to consider whether I am going to update things here and wonder how I went from posting sixty or seventy times a month to the current snail’s pace.

If there were no boundaries in blogging I could address it all in a couple of paragraphs but there are boundaries and so I cannot give you a complete tale.

All I can say is I am always cognizant of the changes here and elsewhere. It feels like a full moon madness that exists whether the moon is given it is full glory in the night sky or but a quarter.

Maybe He Is Right

Old Walt Whitman might be spot on here.

We are all on individual paths and where they lead or do not might be destiny or coincidence.

Hell, it might be a combination of the two.

There is a girl who I would like to sit down and discuss this and a bunch of other things with.

If my druthers and requests were filled it would be on a beach somewhere with no distractions other than the sea.

But for the moment that is an impossibility and one wonders if that moment should be defined and described as minutes or eternity.

This the place where confusion reigns and it is hard to determine if that will continue to be the default answer or if perhaps the clouds will part long enough for rays of sunlight to provide the clarity only they are capable of displaying.

I am tired and worn out by it all, though it is also fair to say I am capable of mustering enough energy to change it all.

But that is probably contingent upon whether there is a real impetus to do so beyond personal desire.

Not that desire doesn’t provide significant motivation because it does. However, it is not enough on its own.

That is what happens when more than one is involved, you can’t walk into a secret world and celebrate by yourself.

It just doesn’t work.

Partnership is required, someone to take your hand and walk with you through the full moon madness.

A Different Way Of Doing Things

The man in the mirror looks familiar but he isn’t quite who I expect to see staring back at me.

Can’t say whether it is a good thing or a bad thing, it is just a thing. He is doing things differently than he once did and we are not sure how that is going to turn out.

Might be fine, might be somewhere between great and terrible, can’t say until more time has passed.

He is impatient that man in the mirror and he really doesn’t want to take on a different way of doing things but sometimes that is how it goes.

A Momentary Silence

Things moved from silence to conversation back to silence.

I was disappointed but not surprised at this turn of events.

Some things have bumps in the road and moments where what seemed like a straight line turn out to have curves.

That is not a good or bad thing, it is just part of life and the trick is to just let it roll and unfold as it will.

If instinct and intuition are on the mark all will be fine and if they aren’t, well all will still be fine.

There was a moment where that look seemed to offer an invitation to revisit the taste and feel of lips upon lips, but I refused to go there.

Not because I didn’t want to but because I wasn’t going to be told I had created an issue. Blurry lines didn’t need any help nor additional blurring.

Especially given the decision to see if instinct and intuition were correct or misguided. Better to wait for an official invitation than to cause unnecessary chaos.

Change will or will not come and we’ll see what sort of revolution it does or does not cause.

The Songs We Hear

I never stopped hearing her song or feeling like I was supposed to be the one hearing it.

Never tried to ask if it was for me or if she knew what she was doing because it felt a bit like looking behind the curtain to see if the wizard was only human.

Years apart but never completely separated we lived parallel lives and kept going as if none of it mattered.

Until the day we shared a meal and real conversation about who we were, are and wanted to be.

It changed everything.

My gut said relax and go with it while my head said be cautious you are not Charlie Brown trying to kick the ball Lucy is holding.

The Songs We Hear

I often told the universe to release me or bring us closer together.

“I don’t know if I am talking to myself or if this is being heard by someone or something that matters and has influence. But just in case I am and you/it do, here is my request. Set me free or change the equation.”

Some days I feared being set free and some days I wondered what happens when you get what you asked for.

And then came the day and the change.

We picked up where we left off and tried not to smile too quickly for fear that it would give away our true thoughts.

That didn’t last because eventually we pulled back the curtains and shared a little bit.

Ever since then the ship has been sailing pretty smoothly towards unknown shores. This is in spite of having told the navigator which way to go.

I choose not to spend too much time worrying or wondering what it all means. Better to be in the moment and to enjoy the ride.

It is a finer way to live.

Writers Don’t Quit But Bloggers Do

The launch of the mighty sailing ship called The Jack B. was about 7.5 years ago or maybe it is eight or nine, who can remember.

Sure we could go into the archives and locate the date with ease if we wanted to or we could just say we started blogging in 2004 on a different site that was integrated into this one.

If you looked through the joints and removed the duplicate posts you’d probably still have around eight or nine thousand of them.

Based upon unscientific research that means I produced more content than most with a few of those posts falling into the good, very good and excellent categories.

Production levels were steady for the first decade or so and then courtesy of work and life responsibilities they slowed down to the current place of semi-hibernation.

Why is it important to mention?

Because writers don’t quit writing, but bloggers do.

I am a writer who is a blogger, not a blogger who just happens to write.

Stay Drunk

I have been drunk on writing for so long now I can no longer remember what it means to be sober.

There is no time I can remember where writing wasn’t on my mind or a part of me in some way.

Although there were and are times in which it was lower on the list of priorities it always occupied a spot on the list.

I am not sure I recognized its import when I was younger, but for certain I have and I do.

The hardest challenge for me now is to write with the complete freedom I wish to under my own name.

I come closer all the time, but have been holding back just a little, not always, but enough.

That will change.