I have found my voice. I will begin to speak as Chief around fire who had a Northern drawl his entire time coming up, planting himself on the outskirts of urban parks so as not to see the skyline burning nor the answer from stars turning towards the question of which light is burning brightest for me to rule.
When I found out my American transcendentalist heroes will be making a comeback every twenty years like fashion does for twenty year olds from now until the end of civilization for both blue jeans and the individual, I knew I had to continue writing how I do not speak so as to repeat this very line from my fingertips every twenty years or so as well. The transcendentalist is a lot like me, awkward in social silence and expressive in his natural surroundings, so much so that we rarely discuss religion or politics, preferring instead to point out the longer route to an answer with outdated words that describes us inside of philosophy and outdoors with science, the description given to all by me if you will truly stick around with me until the end.
For today will certainly be today and there can be no end when the end is repeated – religion.
For today will certainly be the end at the end of the day if more fossil fuel is needed – politics.
I am not here to confuse nor condemn the time period of enlightened artists and poets who would take a chief and have him leave his own bonfire for a seat at the table set with pork and brûlée, not to be eaten with utensils. No, I am here to force feed the goose with his own stuffing while another lass removes an apple from a pig’s mouth to have me share it with her, not only to taste the taste of mouths but to share words about the experience in a different language from what we spoke before we started this nonsense.
Oh parfaite!
‘moke?
This is what I’ve heard today daydreaming. This is what I’ve learned today from something way more pronounced and from someone way more informed. So fresh on my mind that I don’t know what to make of it. I have not found a place in my mind to make any use of this information. Yet. It takes awhile to ingest what it is you have heard at any particular sitting. Even longer to accept in confidence that you indeed learned something to store away for some amount of time before bringing it out again as a habitual thought that becomes yours to expel with a twist that is the signature style you can scribble however you please for others to have.
It is your turn to shine.
If somebody wants to interject their own knowledge into a statement I have put together here, the greater my work is perceived as worthy to contest and maybe false. The greater the work the more they contest the findings. The more they contest the less I want to write. The less I write the less I find. So I keep writing.
I am adding to the creativity bank by writing where I am right now in life because of subjugation to what I’ve put myself through and the subsequent thinking that comes with being more accepting of that in middle age. There are times adding creative thoughts to the pool of intermingled human experience where I tend to leave out important points not seen right then at the original signing until my imagination is off topic revisiting a random post, reading the flow of what my mind had extrapolated months before, not taking into account that my knowledge isn’t as sophisticated today, I would think, as it will be a month from now so I don’t make changes to the original construct. Instead I trust that I can make changes to my thinking in the next post, and when I get to the next post I change that post so often before it’s posted that it becomes what I know now. Every month before is just that and every month ahead is more to look forward to.
Even though my writing is getting cynical, indifferent to capturing an audience and uninspired by my past, I am one hundred percent still into “recovery creativity” with a few minor hiccups on the recovery front and some blank spaces here and there. But things will get even more interesting around here if I can help it.
Francis Erich McElroy 