When the walls come crumbling down...

Well, imagine this, me...at a loss for words. Not actually, but just suffering from a virtual sense of lockjaw for the last few weeks. But I have been uprooted from my comfortzone like a resident of the lower 9th Ward, NOLA.

First off, let me express my gratitude for all the positive feedback and comforting thumbs-ups I got from those of you that did such, after reading my blog in its infancy. Just as I got some momentum and wits about me to really give you all something worth reading, something worth clicking into, it seems that one thing after another went down and I was overwhelmed in a sense...so much material to cover, not knowing where to start, wanting to offer up substance on all counts, like my name was Faulkner or Hemingway or something literary and high-brow. C'mon jackass, just write what you feel, or what you are hearing in your head, you are not trying to win a damn Pulitzer here. If you type, they will come. Like Field of Dreams, huh? "They" being the readers and their lovable comments or better than that, the quotable gems that you are sure are what you can feel twisting and writhing through the corridors of your chemical-addled brain. So, I dropped the ball. Got wrapped up in another mediocre season of LSU Tiger football, all the while lamenting over things like our tanking economy or reality TV or Paul Newman's death, or terrorism in Mumbai, or how our country finally set aside racial prejudice long enough, or at least far enough to the curb, to elect Barack Obama as our next President. Suddenly I was even ignoring the post-it note reminders I strategically placed to remind myself to "BLOG TONIGHT, STOP BEING SELFISH AND SCARED OF CRITICISM" or "HEY DICKHEAD, YOU HAVEN'T BLOGGED IN OVER 6 WEEKS. YOU EMAILED ALL YOUR FRIENDS TO READ YOUR CRAP, AND NOW YOU CAN'T EVEN FOLLOW THRU." You get the idea. Well, maybe I will get back to all of those issues, or maybe I'll just bite a bullet over what ever comes along over the coming weeks. Either way, I look forward to hearing from some of you, one of you, any of you. Please leave a comment if you stop in, even if it is to say hi or to offer an opinion, or to just tell me that entry sucked. I just want to know if you are there, and of course, I value your input, feedback, or addendums. But either way, this will be the least I can do to channel some of this unbearably heavy caca. I see things all the time that have so much meaning and significance to myself and others, but it seems to fall by the wayside if not pointed out, choked out, slit open & bled out, however & whatever it takes to let you see a glimpse of how said chemical-addled brain interprets all the crazy shit going down every day...it is too much to store within. My liberal bleeding heart is as wide as all outside, but it seems of late, my emotions are getting the best of me, and I've just been shoveling all of these thoughts into a virtual Pod parked just outback of reality. And truthfully, I knew that was only a temporary fix. I knew in time that temporary storage of such raw emotion and waning intellect would eventually reach a state of critical mass & would all be lost and unavailable for interpretation, all gelling together into one big-ass exposed nerve. Those virtual Pod walls would burst at the seams, much like those of my heart and mind. My soul feels like that evil rotten bastard from Terminator 2, all liquified and splashed into droplets and pools, all with an instinctive drive to be reunited as a solid mass, but unable to move toward each other, frozen in a pool of liquid nitrogen (that was a kickass movie, back when Guns & Roses were still cool). I've never been one to stay within the lines when coloring, as hard as I tried. But this time I have drifted WAY out of radar range. Wandering Paleface is definitely off the reservation. No longer fit for primetime. But I have a plan, which I will let you in on slowly, but surely, on a need-to-know basis only, of course. All I can say right now is this (well, 2 things):

1. I am glad to be back, and I'm gonna kick my shoes off & stay awhile.

AND 2. It's cold in them there hills.

Hasta la vista, baby.

n'm'out