It’s been long time coming. I haven’t really stopped writing the past two years. It’s just on a moleskin notebook, the back of receipts or other scraps of paper instead of a blog. The private pen, paper, and my lonesome eyes seemed to better fit the times for me, though admittedly fits poorly in the public internet’s immediacy. Not updating a blog for years is like blog suicide. On social networks you’re supposed to post everything for everyone to see all the time.
Has a people ever been so public?
Some Native American tribes in the 1800s had this superstition that having your photograph taken would capture your soul. Maybe that’s not all wrong.
Some time ago a friend posted a picture of me on social media. It caught my facial expression at a certain moment that somehow revealed, or exposed, something of me. I had no control over this – it was just put up as a nice picture, unasked. Why ask, anyway? Everyone uploads pictures of others – it’s actually considered a nice thing to do. Despite the photographer’s innocent gesture, I recoiled at this unwelcome capture of a side of my soul I usually conceal.
What I write is under my control at least. I can choose to publish it, even though anything written reveals something of the writer. It will. The past few years I’ve written the most in my lowest times. You might call it “depression” but that word doesn’t do sad feelings justice. I prefer to say more musical or philosophical-sounding things like “the blues” or “melancholy” or in a really cynical mood to myself, “the hole” or “the dark.”
All that to say, I will start posting a few things I wrote over my absence on this blog.
Each one will begin with “Some time ago…”