In Defense of Blogging (again)

I find myself imagining the need to defend blogging again.

It’s too personal. It’s not well written. No one asked you to do it.

Well, to the last point, I hope someone will someday. And, I don’t care.

The first reveal the common expectation, at least common among older generations, of some ideal professionalism which falls face-flat when brought up to the state modern print/media and persona.

Today, the creative works and the creator are honest and unhindered.

Print and the people who use it (to read or to write) want connection with the person creating the thing, rather than to consume only prime examples of “perfect” form. There is no wall heavy enough to block one another out anymore. We don’t need another brand. We need people.

Part of the writer is always in the poem.

When those moments of supreme unity through poetry occur, we know, the creator and the viewer dissolve into a nothingness. Like we learn through mu (zen), a mind eliminates linguistic and imagistic notions of reality. Physical and abstract merge under multitudes of One. Or smth like that.

As we reach out for that moment, don’t we want to know we are getting there with someone we would also consider fit to be in our lives?

Would you prefer Blavatsky or Crowely??

People are tearing down statues of early presidents who lived on plantations (whether or not they freed any slaves there). It is not uncommon for uncovered personalities to destroy reputations decades, hundreds of years after the fact.

People want to believe in the person creating as well as what is created.

Take the presidency, for example…. no, nevermind.

People, and hundred years behind the times critics, expect the most stoically professional presentation of one’s self.

Lenny Marks works art jobs and nothing else.

How boring.

It’s like they are afraid someone will find out they are not living perfect lives. It’s like they worry someone will find out the stone walls they’ve built around their estates are faux stones no more or less massive than a packing peanut.

Where are you, really? Who are you? Do you misspell words? Leave out punctuation? Jump from thought to thought with not even a tightrope to follow?

I mean, I understand that what I am is not always as recognizable as grammatical errors, but to stand solely behind traditional successes, not to reveal yourself as a creator, that fights potential progress in a world that could, if we join in, change for the better.

Speak. Spit it. Murmur till the hurt unfurls.


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