Title?
I'd rather not add a subtitle...
I’m not feeling it. I thought I was, but I’m not.
Writing is…
And with that, I’m off and running with my daily ritual of sitting down to say something. About what? I don’t know…
Do we really need “Titles” for our articles? Maybe “Title?” is enough - for now.
Staring at the white of the screen. Watching as my fingers do a dance over the QWERTY keyboard to say something…anything.
Usually, I’m full of inspiration to say many things about the world and the life that appears to be…to be…
Appearing to be and being are two different things. What is isn’t always apparent.
So, let’s go back…this morning, I got a like on a post that I put up about my life thirty years ago by a guy who was a part of my life much earlier than thirty years ago. He put my cassette player/radio into my truck, a 1987 Dodge Ram 50 that I’d bought specifically to help an ex-girlfriend move. Here’s the post that he liked:
Thirty Years Ago...
I learned how to write HTML directly into Pine using “Pico” on the UNIX server of the University of Pittsburgh in 1996. I taught my fellow graduate students what I knew and this is one of the results:
In posting this, I had a couple of comments from people guessing at what the image was - I was a bit astonished. It would have been so easy for them just to click open the article and read it rather than to make spurious guesses at what this image shows. It’s the sculpture hall of the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, to be precise. The whole thing is worth the price of admission, if you haven’t been there. Currently, the 59th Carnegie International is happening. Artists say what the human spirit has to express, I think. However, there’s a whole commerce side of things. I could go on but ROBERT FRIPP is already saying it better than I ever could.
Typos are interesting. Good often emerges when I mean to write could, for example.
Frankly, I’m dissatisfied with my writing of late. I believe that I could be doing better than I am and so, perhaps, I will. I know I’ve done better in the past. At least I’m not alone:
Kinga who wrote this post above a bit ago is mirroring my own experience of this day. Perhaps we are something that the pleroma is doing for its own reasons? I don’t know.
As a gnostic theist, this not knowing, but awareness that I only have my impressions to go on is…something of a way of keeping my sense of vertigo. Ah, now there is something that I can sink my ears into….I was going to say teeth, but it’s ears that are really needed for this one:
I was listening to this on frequent rotation as I lived alone for the last time in 2007-2008. It was, I heard, created, in part, as a grief project by Bono after losing his father.
I was intending to go back into my history to a time when Alan Bomar and his wife, Jan, were a part of my life. Alan having liked my post about my life thirty years ago, when I had departed Williamsburg and been away a couple of years, brought the time when we were attending parties together in Williamsburg. I was an apprentice in the Foundry. I was looking for an image of me from those days, but it didn’t turn up. Instead, this one popped up from a little afterward:
I’m grateful for having had this experience and to have been captured at work.
I could go on, but for now, this little regurgitation of what language will surface is enough. Sometimes you can’t make it on your own, Bono intones…it’s true.
Onward!
Click a button. Any button…