Words You Won’t Read
I wanted to call this post 2011- The Year of The Motherfucker but then I thought that it might be better to write 2011- You Were a Real Motherfucker.
As you can see I opted not to use either headline and not because I was concerned that I would scare away the millions of brands that are pounding down my door demanding that I become one of their ambassadors. Nope, I like Words You Won’t Read better because it is more accurate.
That is not because I don’t have legions of readers who hang on my every word because I do and let me tell you that it is not always easy to have groupies. Groupies still think for themselves and sometimes that means that they do don’t as I wish they would. Minions are different.
Minions don’t think to do anything other than your bidding and that is kind of cool. But you have to be careful about that because as Uncle Ben Parker said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” Of course that didn’t prevent him from getting shot and killed but we won’t talk about that now.
Instead I am going to share a few thoughts with you.
- I am waiting for my pals at Headway Themes to finish tweaking things so that I can migrate to the current version. That might involve small changes or it might involve big changes. I don’t know.
- It makes me crazy to see how many of the videos I have embedded here are gone because something happened on YouTube’s end.
- It makes me crazy to see how many broken links develop over time. That is just a hassle that I prefer not to deal with.
I am listening to Ray Charles sing “Mess Around” and dancing in my chair. When I am not dancing I am pretending to play my keyboard as if it is a piano. I keep hitting the keys and creating new words that lookÂ like gr-0uyghu-prfv and 0ifv80f4hr0cjw vnpln.
More than twenty years ago I worked at a camp outside of Toronto. We tried to convince the Canadians that “Combrodonate” was a word that everyone in LA was using and that it would be really cool if they did too. Most didn’t do it. I blame it on a short guy from cleveland named Mark who said that he had a cousin in LA and he had never heard anyone use it before.
Mark was an obnoxious prick. I asked him if he suffered from smoke inhalation back home. He pretended not to know what I was talking about, but I know he got it. Really, what clevelander isn’t going to acknowledge that the river bursts into flames every hour. It is sort of like their version of Old Faithful, except one is a natural geyser and the other was created by a bunch of guys…er…
I think that I am having more fun writing this story than I ever have. There is a point and a purpose to it that fuel my passion. All those ‘p’s make me proud.
Blog posts don’t have to have a purpose. Some people will read your prose because your passion is your purpose and that is the point of it all. I have written about 550 posts this year, give or take a few. Most were written because I had words that refused to remain bound inside my head.
Passion, point and purpose. I like those three words. I appreciate how by simply rearranging the order in which we use we can provide new meaning and intent.
Going to sign off now. In a few hours I’ll find out if these really were words you won’t read or not.