If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh first . . .

I had a blog once.

It was a partnered up affair. And it went from fishing for a couple hits a day to a money making deal. And then it went South faster than professional baseball players come spring training.

In my former blog being, relationships came into play to worst case scenario results. And it led to the demise of a construct worthy of better days. After which I promised myself to never again ply this bargain beast open sourced channel of communication.

But promises are like candy bars (Sorry, Forrest). You break them in the full well knowledge of a pirate’s best want. Cause sometimes it’s the sweet you get in the doing and sometimes it’s the not so much. The gambling was living hard against my veins, that’s how I figure.

This blog was my look see as to the goings on of the stratosphere of this blogosphere I used to gallivant with oil and water and all other manner of stuff that came to us in the middle of a midnight’s ransom. I figured this blog would curb my tempest of a curiosity well enough. I could toe the wicked memoried stream and remind myself as to why this place had not suited me.

This place I had sworn daggers against doing ever again.

And so it was, that last fall I broke the seal of ‘never again’ and tried. And to my lonesome trespass, I found. Something, and then better than something. And then better still.

I found a musical renaissance man in Rowland Jones. And then a photogenic genius of an educator in Petal Pusher. And they became my bastions to a deeper understanding as to what this whole blogging thing is about.

Because it’s here, in this thing that I have going. This tiny little scrub of a blog known for its witty get backs. It’s in the here’s worth of translation from overseas and from right next door to me. It’s knowing that I have a friend, and not loosely.

Petal and RJ. If not for you, I don’t really think I’d have gotten back on to this blogging thing. And I know for certain I wouldn’t be writing my lasting chapters into some editorial consent.

I owe the two of you something better than a posted thank you. But let’s settle the tab on that. For now. And to the rest of you bloggers who make it over to this place when you can, I’m thankful to you and then some. For how you write and lament and bitch and thank and gather up more and more. I look forward to my inbox, so’s I can see what you’ve come up with next.

It feels like I’m back. And hell, it’s been too long.

As for this musical end game I’ve attached. Well, let’s just say my former blog self had a close association with the sharps and flats and mergatroid of this little ditty come baseball capped rendition.



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