I got tired of visiting artist and writers web sites but never getting to visit the artist or writer, including my own.
I got tired of thinking about my stuff like it has been written for some stuffy fun crushing grammarian when it’s meant for creative, curious, conscious, caring, competent, courageous, catapult people.
I got tired of keeping documents in file folders and forgetting those file folders among other file folders that get lost in storage.
I got tired of putting poems, thoughts, ideas, questions, things that reach out to the world into file folders knowing nothing would come of them.
I got tired of seeing notebook pages and docs as if they’re assignment reels instead of environments for discovery and expression.
As if a known thing can discover things unknown. A blog is an unknown thing.
I like that this is different, strange, unwieldy. I like that college classes on blogging either don’t exist or are so boring students spend the semester wanting to drop out.
This is a result of the passion my life grants me. This each day thing. This wishing I were writing thing. This falling in love with it all over again thing.
This is my adventure to find the flat edge of the planet.
This is scribble on flyleaf.