Dispatches from the wilderness

I never cease to be amazed at how quickly time passes when I am not having fun.  It’s been a month since I last checked in.  While I’ve made the resolution to write on multiple occasions, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  The crux of my blog was a mix of righteous anger and cynical humor at the injustices and indignities of life in these modern United States.  Politically, I got what I wanted, with the Christofascists swept out of town and back to their dominions in Texas and Wyoming.  Here’s hoping the unprecedented assault on civil liberties ended on January 20th.

What else is there?  Music?  I’m still listening to a lot of that, sharing my finds with friends, writing for MetroMusicScene, and scanning the wonderful music pages over at NPR.

What about grief?  Yeah, there’s still that.  Death is one of those unfortunate circumstances that does not get more tolerable with repetition.  Coupled with that specter hanging over my head is a recent romantic setback I suffered.  Generally speaking I have two rules with respect to blogging – 1) I do not talk about my job, and 2) I do not discuss my personal life.  On the latter front, I’ve been injudicious in the past, inured to the havoc my words can wreak because I’m immune to them.  I hurt someone in my past with a few words and a flippant turn of phrase, and I don’t want to do that again.  I just cannot fathom people’s motivations, even my own, and why they sometimes do the things they do.  I will go on the record as saying I am a first-class idiot when it comes to love & romance, and I’m public enemy #1 in that fertile universe that exists solely inside my skull.  Despite the healthy self-flaggelation I’ve been administering, I wouldn’t change a thing.  I took a chance, and I didn’t succeed.

This post is a work in progress, and may be edited when my brain is a little less sodden with sleep.