I have been most verbose of late, full of words that keep demanding they be recorded electronically and sent out there into the never never land of blogs that seem to be mostly maintained by people who are not interested in what they are saying but are fixated on finding something that will get them enough attention that they can use their blogs as a catapult to something profitable.
I would like for this to generate some income, would please me to no end, but I don’t write to generate income and I don’t share my words thinking that someone will pay me for providing them with a few minutes pleasure. For a long time I even tried to push myself towards that end, I tried to convince myself that if I could become economically secure writing then I would be free. But I think I always realized that getting paid for writing would change writing for me and I would no longer write because I had to or write the things that I have to but would become part of the system.
I get likes on this blog, almost every time I post, and I have nearly a hundred “followers” according to WordPress. When I am feeling generous I let myself assume that maybe a tenth of all the people who clicked the follow button actually read my posts when they are sent to them. I have to feel really generous with myself though to do that because something deep inside me, the voice of reality perhaps, keeps telling me that blogging has become a social game wherein each blogger tries to find a sympathetic thread to which they can attach their aspirations and, by liking enough people who are also playing the game, a reputation of sorts (friendly to fellow bloggers seems to be more important than having a blog that actually tries to say something) that opens one up to the bottom of the blogger’s fame and fortune pyramid.
These words keep flowing, at this point in my life God has and I thank him and praise him and rejoice that I can sit here at my kitchen table on this cool Monday morning in the middle of December in this year of our Lord 2014. I thank God that I learned to type when I was young and so keyboarding is second nature to me, easier than forcing a pencil or pen to mark a sheet of paper tap tap tap doesn’t require all the swirls and swoops any decent cursive penmanship requires.
I keep sending this out there, posting these blogs to rikworld, hoping and praying that in all the world there might be one who will see my words, become engaged by my train of thought, choose to accompany me on my journey, join me as I draw lines, weigh things and make measurements. The world is. Was. Will become.
Such silly simple words that we have allowed them to become our ticket to Egypt where we were pressganged into a galley headed up the Nile (denial, get it, obvious I know). The trip has only been made bearable by the generosity of the masters who make sure that we have plenty to drink and encourage us to band together in our mutual misery to make the best of the little they allow us while they sit under a canopy, above us, above the wind that would carry the stink of our labor’s sweat to their delicate nostrils, enjoying the fruits of our labors.
This is America! Not ancient Egypt. Or medieval Europe. We are free people and we do what we want because we want to. We want to spend the majority of our time five days out of seven bending and scraping and bowing in order to get along and make enough money to keep a roof over our heads, foods in our bellies, ready transportation. We choose to pay for every second of life, the warmth that keeps us, the light that exposes us. Hell, we even pay to have clean air in our homes, that stuff the common people breathe is full of all kinds of stuff that might be detrimental to our health.
I guess Ezra Pound is still with me a bit today. I love America and I love what I think it stands for, the great experiement – can humanity rule himself and provide a just and equitable society. This idea is in danger of extinction. For many I fear America is security and obsession with keeping one’s possessions. And success is socially measured by getting better and more modern possessions, continually, continuously. Never enough. Never good enough. We turn on the television for distraction but really we are being filled with images of what we don’t have, can’t have, won’t have, so many it’s blinding, and so we cope by choosing this or that out of all the whirling maelstorm of consumerism and that becomes our thing and while we can’t have that or that or that, I do at least have this and this sets me apart and means I am above the median!
There are so many people that, I guess, on some level we have to quit considering them as a sea of individuals but as a mass with kinetic energy. Don’t get me wrong, I like having what I have and I thank God all the time that I was blessed to be born a white male in the United States in the middle of the twentieth century. I could have gotten a lot worse, a whole different set of circumstances that would have denied me what I recognize and appreciate as being the blessings of being born, raised, and provided opportunity in what the future will consider as they peak of the civilization that was spawned by the Renaissance, nurtured by the Enlightenment, fueled by the Industrial Revolution, and encouraged by the great American experiment.