April 30 by The Running Son
Man, I don’t even know where to start.
Let’s begin with the important things, basketball. My boys, the LA Clippers are going to lose game 5 of the first round of playoffs. Depressing. OK… I don’t want to talk about that anymore.
Also in the news, since the LA Clippers obviously aren’t, I’ll be writing my first guest post on will2meaning aka Michael’s blog. It’ll be up tomorrow. Also, Jennifer at writingsofamrs has invited me to participate in her weekly Pay it Forward Thursday event. I will be battling poetry with her. (although it may turn out perfectly civil and affable… but maybe not hehehe)
Now, the RFB is a split personality blog. Well, isn’t it? I mean, in the beginning it was a library, pure and simple, and by design. An ambient and mildly academic theme, populated with technical and scholarly articles, histories, biographies, learning aids… all self-service and non-interactive. It was a damn ghost-town to be honest, and I never really liked it. Oh for heavens sake I’m an artist! How long could I have hid behind the library desk?
I wanted to get out of the librarians chair and table-dance. Like a bomb wants to blow. I wanted kinetic interaction. I wanted tonic in the air, and I wanted it to ebb and flow in rhythmic bursts of Dionysian sensuality and furious expression.
Heh…well, lets just say I wanted to write articles of my own.
So now, and for about 3 weeks or so, the RunningFather blog has been defined by poetry, art and life-blogging… maybe not the lush, musky opium-den of my recklessly uninhibited imagination, but I’m diggin it!
I’m a little manic tonight. Forgive. but it is voltage in my fingertips, and I needed to write.
So, what does that mean for the darkened and quiet library of transpersonal resource material? Well, I’ll get back to it, but it may take a little while. With 200 or so articles, I guess there is enough for people to chew on…and enough to allow me to take a break.
PARTY!!! Kidding. But I am excited, I mean very excited, to write poetry and express again. It has been a long trek through the arid desert of Appolonia, and I am sick to my heart for the heady entanglements of civilization. Can I get an Amen?
Thank you. (you all echoed “Amen”… you did)
Did I say everything I wanted to? I don’t think so. And the way I’m feeling now, I don’t want to talk about my unhappy stuff that I was going to. So I wont.
So I’ll say goodbye.