You know, sometimes there’s just nothing to say. I have been, for the last couple of years, as they say, largely “silent” as a writer. Some claim writer’s block. I, on the other hand, claim it not. It’s different. It’s more as if, with the great cacophony of opinions swirling around the – I can’t say it – blogosphere, the prospect of adding one’s lonely voice to that tiresome, bloated chorus is just a little bit demoralizing.
Or a lot. I don’t know. But this is what I do.
Suffice to say, I am crawling back to the surface like some college boy tossed into the pool at the 3 a.m. mark of the frat party. Why? Because, oddly, I must. I have no excuse for it. I have been working on some fiction, which I believe I’ll start stapling out on this board for anyone who may be interested. And I’ve got matches – matches for sale.
Seriously – I have felt like some primordial mud pit long crusted over but with an insistent bubbling magma beneath – some of which must surface, and form some strange new organism, while other channels must stay submerged, flowing forever beneath the surface. So it is.
I won’t say my mood is good, but it’s not too bad. There is, again, a kind of pacific stability to my life – it is the peace I crave in order to hear myself in the quiet, and also the peace I abhor because, let’s face it, life is not a study hall.
I mean, dude.
There’s so much to say, I have no excuse for not saying it. So here we go. I was reading over the old entries here today, one day after I pulled the switch and registered supergiantsquid.com as my own personal domain*. So here’s my pledge to you, dear possibly non-existent public: I will take up the mantle of explaining life inside this mortal coil once again, and try to make public sense of this world – the one we drop into, like a baby set adrift in the rushes.
But we can leave all that behind.