What I am

What I am is a writer.  I like to talk about what I see and have seen.  There’s plenty.  I hope to illuminate, maybe even educate, but at the end of the day, I’ll settle for pissing you off.  I’m here for a reason.  It’s not deep or profound.  The reason is I can’t help it.  I must do this.  I am compelled, whether anyone listens or not, to speak my mind.  I always have something to say.  It’s a curse and a blessing.

I’ve always been this way.  I can’t bring myself to be unhappy about it.  I don’t really try.

Either I’m wont to wax political or I tell you stories.  I do so because I can’t help it.  I am a writer.  I like words.  They are my stock in trade.  Fiduciary.  Supple.  Plenipotentiary.  Flabbergasted.  Onomatopoeia.  I’ll fire them at you for fun.  That’s one of the things I do with words.  Otherwise I strive to make a point.  To awaken you to some aspect or angle you hadn’t considered.  I really like doing that.  Sometimes I search high and low for that angle, that perspective.

If I just can’t find it, I come at you full bore with something I hate that you might not understand.  I get myself in a lather and blow smoke in your face while I pound and complain.  I do this because I have to.  Because I can’t help it.

All humans are foolish.  Humility is the best we can present, despite it being insincere the majority of the time.  I’m no exception.  I really want you to read my shit.  I’m a writer.  I want to talk to you.  Communicate with you.  Reach you.  Touch your heart and your mind.

I am a writer.  I can’t help it.

Just like any other pedestrian, my humility is fragile.  Like any other egotistical pontificator, I’m confident I have something to say you’ve never heard before, or at least in a way you’ve never heard before.  It’s just as likely I’m completely wrong.  I can’t help it.  I’m a writer.

I hate any organized religion and I love to hate politics.  I love to talk about both until I run out of breath and big interesting words.  I sincerely hope, in that pursuit, to entertain you.  I do endeavor, with as much honesty as I can muster, to tell you the truth as I see it.  I am not here to fuck around.

What I am, is a writer.

Bear with me, I’m working up to it.

What I want to tell you.

As of Monday, August four, I’ll be off the grid.  I’m going to ground because I have to make money.  Whims are no longer subject to me.  I am subject to them.  Off I go, back to ground, to make them my bitch again soon.  I don’t imagine it will be longer than a week or so.  For me to get back to you.  Back on the grid.  Not to make whimsy my own.  That will take a little longer.

The whole idea is for me to control circumstances once again.

Fly a biplane into the yonder blue.  Away we go.  Yep, A biplane.  A Sopwith Camel.

My two girls will be in cages in the back of my newly registered, no insurance, expired drivers license, most likely with a bench warrant vulnerable ass…..car.  I got new tags though.

I’m off.  Bear with me.  I’ll be back just as soon as I can.  To startle you.  To entertain you.

No worries, I’ll be back soon.

I am a writer.

Drinks for my friends.

3 Responses to “What I am”

  • Kelly:

    Good luck out there. Hope you get back soon.

  • Master Bacon:

    Hey, I belong to no organized religion: I am Episcopalian! Okay I stole the structure from Will Rogers’ great line about Democrats, that other club o’mine. Douglass in the Desert: Forty days at the source, that would-be font of Nevada. Much good can come from going off the grid. Reboot. Your dispatches will be anticipated. I am a reader.

  • I, too, am a loyal reader. 😀

Leave a Reply

Get more stuff like this
in your inbox

Subscribe to our mailing list and get interesting stuff and updates to your email inbox.

Thank you for subscribing.

Something went wrong.

Feed Subscriber count

Recent Comments
Archives