There were potholes along the yellow brick road

Where to start?

I guess from right here. Which is how this place came to life. From an angry desperation whose resolve let loose into making laughs out of the crazy ideas. My alter ego tripped on the tomorrow of all things questioned whilst pining on the everyday of grocery store lines and cable bills. It happened and it worked, and this blog grew on me. And it taught me plenty, but maybe most importantly is the reminder it provided me.

Things usually happen in a way outside of normal.

So this parcel of hum became something worth having. Its expanse was a progression whose wheels were oiled by the everyday absurdities while its engine was fueled by the feedback provided by you, the reader. And this is the part of the story that I had to learn, or relearn. Because I knew the how of writing. But I think, no . . I know, that I needed to be reminded of the why.

As a writer, I struggle. I’ve yet to meet a writer who doesn’t know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s as if the fates have issued a warrant in your name and from the first time you push thoughts into words, you’re going to be chased in perpetuity. So you lay down a word and then build upwards and outwards until the expression achieves a dimension inside someone else’s head. And this here is where the struggle arises, for me; and for many a writer.

My particular struggle is in how I tend to cling so tightly to the solitary involvement that writing affords me. I dig that, very much so. This might sound crazy, but it’s like I create a quiet room inside my head when I write, because when I elaborate and elucidate and bring all the little somethings into a crush of people, places and things? It gets plenty loud in there. So much so that the quiet is actually a way to come back to where I started. After which I read what I just wrote and everything slows down and it’s as if I went for a long drive and I don’t remember a bit of it.

This blog is one of many millions of places where folks might happen upon and read something that makes them think, or laugh, maybe cry or curse . . a place that grabs their attention for a moment, inside of which these visitors become as much a part of the vacation as the innkeeper. They might relate to a particular grudge, a specific annoyance or they might just dig the vibe I’m throwing. Or not. Either way, I am thankful to those of you who read me. Even if I have a peculiar way of showing it. I’m still learning.

Thank you Mad Science. For being the writer who found me in the middle of this place, because you saved me from myself. You make me think, laugh, you make me better. Your post stirred it up (See what I did there?), and it left my hands trembling in the reply. I shit you not, a grown ass man . . trembling. I wanted to call them digit pussies, I really did, but I understood the reaction was coming from someplace much warmer and much more soulful.

I always knew the how, I had simply misplaced the why. And while the former is all well and good, it’s the latter that provides the reach and the inspiration for growth and change. You can yell Shakespeare in a forest from now until forever and change absolutely nothing. Or, you can riff on the convoluted logic of a fat free cappuccino and someone . . somewhere might just be like “I know, right!”. And in so doing, you’ve scored a point in the universe from the quiet of your tiny little space.

You can leave a comment if you wish (*), you can just read. I borrowed that particular sentiment from someone who knows a thing or two about the dark and hopeless places, and how light can be a salve. Because the words demand better, they deserve it. How you arrive at this truth is different, for everyone. It’s a curious alignment of time, place and circumstance. You might even call it mystical.

I do.


8 thoughts on “There were potholes along the yellow brick road

  1. Soul man,

    Three little words.

    “I know, right?!”

    What? Not the three words you expected? Well those too, but “you know (those), right?!”

    Hey, you’ve been my fire starter, my catalyst, for a very long time. It’s just what you do. If I can play a similar role for you, then it’s my pleasure, but more than that, it’s my responsibility -in a good way. It’s just what friends do.

    I’ve been there, on a regular basis, we all have, but we each bring our own experiences and attitudes to the fold, so it’s always different for each of us. Life is one big science experiment…and every once in a while we discover something lovely, something even … mystical.

    Three little words. Yeah those.

  2. PS- dig the song choice. She’s better Elton there.

    Every road has potholes. Just gotta keep our eyes open for them, for the signs, for the ruts…..gotta rise from our sleepless slumber and …… 😉

  3. Three little words, three little birds…..these things really should come with some kind of “Things are bigger than they appear” warning, just so’s we know how important it all is. But I guess that’s what the steps are for, to get there.

    Life IS one big science experiment, I’m glad you feel that way too.

    Thank you for introducing me to a better way of doing things. A richer, fuller, infinitely more satisfying way of doing things. It’s peace and it’s love and it’s enlightenment. I AM better because of you, your support, your love, your words. You’re an amazing writer, you’re an even more amazing person, and I’m finding that out more and more every day.

    Peace, love and morning reading

  4. I immediately fell in love wit this sentence, “So this parcel of hum became something worth having” Simple, elegant, and with a palpable feel in my chest. The hum of writing is the draw, the lure, the appeal of pounding on the keyboard.

    I fell in love with all of the sentences–each with a message, a moment, and internal tap-tap on my brain. Your digits be pussies? Hardly. To come forth with this vulnerability and authenticity is not for the feint of heart. To push publish…that is always brave.

    As for Mad Science…she rocks, too.

    • Mama, it’s the truth. Thank you for the props and thoughts and support. Yeah, it was really something, to be trembling. But you know something? It was pretty great. I guess maybe I’m not completely jaded after all. Mad Science DOES rock.
      Thank you Mama, thank you so much.

  5. HOLY CRAP. First of all I sooooo love this title that I want to rob you of it as my life motto, maybe even one of my future books. But respect brother nothing but respect. 🙂 Awesome. Dude. Awesome I so get that. I absolutely love your existence in this community. I happen to fall into and I’m thankful for running into you at one of Susie’s parties.

    “I always knew the how, I had simply misplaced the why.”

    Dude you so knew the how, it was living in your veins, breathing in your breath, and pumping in your heart. You got this brother and I’m glad you came back. Yes thank you Mad Science whoever you are awesome lady because the stories that I find here fill in the potholes sometimes. Humor and heart do that.

    Buen Camino my friend. 🙂

  6. Thank you!

    Yes, I think I needed a reminder and she provided it. Even if that was not really her goal, it worked. I think it’s in the way she writes, which can be magical.

    I’m not always feeling like the social butterfly, but I’m far from the only person who struggles with the balance of it all. And yes, this blog community has been good to me. Very good to me. And I think I was being dismissive of it. No, I know I was being dismissive of it.

    I’m glad to have come across you in my blog travels, Cali. You’re good people, and Lord knows we need to keep the good people close to us in these crazy times. Because they provide inspiration and they teach us lessons about life. Constructive, positive lessons. And your posts are full of humor, heart and resiliency. And a reminder to always look for the peace, but…when life hands you lemons, sometimes it’s okay to turn them into your inner Liam Neeson.

    Be well Cali. Peace and love to you

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