Night Call
Neil Gaiman wrote that he wrote 'Midnight Tales' when he was staying up late and had no one with whom to talk. I guess this post is about that.
The problem I have is that I think of so many tweets, FB updates, myspace blog posts (Remember them?) and blog posts which I could upload but for one reason or another I don't I guess I want to address that here. If only in some meta-post without mentioning any of the posts I haven't posted up.
I have drafted some in my head, articulating some hidden emotion or desire. I have even gone so far as to either draft them on a computer, an email or even write them in the box only to lean on the 'backspace' key like a crutch until the words wash back out to the sea.
Mixed metaphors aside, there are probably some very sensible reasons why these posts never see the light of day. They are incendiary in their revelation. Not the worldwide appeal, just the frank honesty of a drunk or tired mind trying to see with diamond-like clarity. I don't have a devil on my shoulder for this, I have a tiny Spider Jerusalem telling me to shotgun shell truth down people's throats so hard they end up sitting on a bed of verisimilitudant flowers, fed by lush satiric manure.
More rambling mixed metaphors. The longer I type, the less I want to post this.
Anyway. The temptation to flood my feeds with whatever I wash out from my mind and disguising it as 'content' for channel Ram (or those on the Continent CanaleRamlos) is always there. So what holds me back? The interests of maintaining a future decorum about my person and my presence (either in person or online) does. If I bring the deluge of my half-formed thoughts to the world they will simply mix in with the rest of the thought foam, no different from anything else.
So I don't post a lot. Not here, not anywhere unless it meets my standard.
Or unless I am drunk. Or tired like I am now and gripped in a late-night writers frenzy we get.
That being said, I am going to make more of an effort to produce decent 'content' for here and elsewhere.
You have been spared my hyperbolic rantings for too long internet.
Expect truthing pains.
R.