To the few of you who come here regularly…

by DRM

So, yes, things were get­ting a lit­tle too seri­ous around here.  For me, at least.  The seri­ous stuff was mak­ing my head bog down, and when that hap­pens it’s time to go grab for the light smile.

After all, there are a few of you now.  I mean, an audi­ence, who’s decided to fol­low for a lit­tle while for some rea­son.  Since there’s not a lot of con­sis­tency in the pat­tern of the posts, whatever’s piqued your inter­est might not reap­pear for a while on the lazy susan of my men­tal store­house.   I want to say I’m sorry for that, but I can’t be.  After all, this is a kind of live notebook.

I’m not count­ing the folks who come every day to check out my post on the last para­graph of The Dead.  That’s a bad joke on stu­dents.  The num­ber of vis­its from Google to that post have jumped up mea­sur­ably with the school year wind­ing down.  It’s final paper time, and god help what­ever poor soul decides to excerpt that self-indulgent post into their hon­ors Eng­lish paper.  [I don’t think they teach Joyce in the reg­u­lar Eng­lish track in most high schools.]

I do won­der about you all, now and again.  Not that there’s a lot of you.  Just a hand­ful, really.  Some of you might be writ­ers, and I’ve got a lot of respect for you.  The work of writ­ing is hard.

That’s drift­ing away from my smi­ley mood.  I’ll have to share my per­son­al­ity inven­tory from the pos­i­tive psy­chol­ogy folks here.  It helps to explain why I keep drift­ing into the ice shoals of big ideas with the lit­tle dinghy of my knowl­edge.   Just can’t help it.

My seri­ous writ­ing project, which I dare not name!, is going along slowly, slowly, slowly.

You can blink your eyes and see the whole thing laid out in front of you — the char­ac­ters, the path, the impres­sions, the ah-ha’s — and then when you get writ­ing it’s like being a ditch dig­ger with a cal­cium defi­ciency.   You cramp up after a cou­ple of shovels.