Darling remember from when you come to me that I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be but who could know, lf I’m a traitor? time’s the revelator, revelator. –Gillian Welch, Revelator I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, […]
Darling remember from when you come to me
that I’m the pretender,
I’m not what I’m supposed to be
but who could know, lf I’m a traitor?
time’s the revelator, revelator.
–Gillian Welch, Revelator
I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, it’s beautiful. I only have a m4p version I got from the itunes store and they’re not sharable. I’d bitch about that but (looks at paycheck) it’s not in my best interest to do so.
Better, I wish I could put up an mp3 of my friend Ken’s version of it. Welch’s is pretty, but Ken’s, with backup by Heather Courtney and (hell, I guess her name is Lyndie Way, but I’m not sure about that). Ken’s is intense and passionate. A case where the song writer and the cover artist combine to make something wonderful that the songwriter alone doesn’t deliver.
Today marks two years of blogging for yours truly. And as with last year, I feel I should be saying something about it. I failed last year. But I have very very strong feelings about anniversaries, commemorations of dates and events. I remember these things, have marked them on myself with tattoos. I’m the one who says “You know, one year ago today, we met”. I already mentioned that this year marks 30 years since my first piercing. So these things matter to me.
In so many ways Welch’s lyrics, above, say more about my feelings here than anything I can come up with. I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be.
My long-time readers (um. both of them) know I started this to talk about writing, because I couldn’t think of anything else to blog about at the time. I had hoped, after writing Wanton earlier that year, to use this blog to help me hone my writing skill and harness my creativity.
Best Laid Plans and all that. In fact this blog has been something completely other than that. An ego monument, a place to express myself, an anchor around my neck, a listening ear in both good ways and bad. It’s gotten me some good friends, though in fact many of them came via orkut, or other sites like the erotica forum where I posted my novella. It’s in many ways helped me be more open about my feelings. It’s taught me some new technical skills, but it’s also given me a huge distraction and time suck.
I don’t know, in the end, if this is good for me, or bad. I flip-flop on that weekly, and as I’ve said, three or four times I’ve given it up and torn my blog down and said fuck blogging, it’s all over. I’ve written almost nothing since Wanton, only put up two stories (a silly piece about santa and a sex-dream story inspired by a long-ago celebrity crush). I spend more time in a state of writer’s block than I spend writing.
It’s been an intense two years. I’ve learned more about love and hurt the last two years than I think I ever knew in my life up ’til that point. In many ways these last two years have encompassed some of my highest highs and lowest lows, and the shock waves from all that will not dissipate for a long while yet. In many ways I found myself these last two years, or let myself be myself, stopped being what other people expected of me.
Maybe the pretender is the shell on the ground behind me. Or maybe I’m fooling myself again and what I’m doing is simply killing time and not doing anything.
In either case, this marks two years in my life where everything changed and yet everything is the same, and I’m the worse for the wear, with new scars inside and out, only some of them self-inflicted.
I feel like I should be proud or angry. Yet all I can manage is sad.
Time’s the revelator.
I started blogging to stretch my writing chops and that didn’t happen. My typing skill hav e inmporved though. I haven’t written one damn short story since, other than erotic, and that wasn’t my fucus, er, focus, see?
But the social aspect has been quite rewarding.
“An ego monument, a place to express myself, an anchor around my neck, a listening ear in both good ways and bad.” I couldn’t say it better.
My first anniversary is next month and I’ve been reflecting on the whole experience.
“I love all the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft. We have constructed pyramids in the honor of our escaping.” – Morrison.
It is a thin raft and we escape. These pages are our pyramids. It’s a good escape though. And sometimes our pyramids aren’t built to code.
This virtual world is just as real as IRL. Just one more complication sometimes because it takes time out of our schedules, leaves us wondering what to put here, and makes us think a little harder than we normally do in IRL. We have the option of sitting back before acting.
Happy Anniversary, Karl. Glad to have “met” you. Welcome to my thin raft and my pyramid.
In many ways I found myself these last two years, or let myself be myself, stopped being what other people expected of me.
This is not a bad thing, Karl. It doesn’t have the ability to be a bad thing.
I find myself putting in blogs the ugly, immature part of myself I’m loathe to present in person. It didn’t start out that way. I started out struggling for wit, for originality, anything SPARKLY that would hide the real stuff. But it’s too exhausting. I’m a 30-something artist with a schoolgirl’s attitude, and as immature and, frankly, annoying as I am, there are still people who make it worth my sharing that truth.
I hope you stick around for a long time, Karl. You’re never boring, and that’s not because life isn’t occasionally boring, but because you have SUCH a way with blogversation, my friend. *hugs & kisses*
I don’t often mention Orkut, but for a short while there it really did change everything for just about everyone we knew on it. It was an amazing conduit for…. something. I still remember the first post I actually referenced you in. I believe I called you a fucking genius. I stand by that.
Thinking about what might have been is kinda sad, when I think about that one particular aspect of…things. I think the reason people come down so hard on Orkut is because it promised so much at the beginning, before everything went to hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone didn’t feel a little betrayed that the mundanity of ordinary life turned out to have such a tenacious hold; our dreams couldn’t quite make escape velocity, and one by one we all fell back down to earth.
Of course, I don’t know that much about the rest of your life, except for what you write here. I do know that, for what it’s worth, I’m grateful to have met you. I am also coming to suspect that blogging to write is harder than it sounds at first. Which is kind of a pisser because I’m a fan of immediate results, but that doesn’t seem to be how it works.
It does work, though. Of that I’m sure. It’s just really. frustrating. At times. But your ordinary “in between” entries are, fairly consistently, outstanding, and they are writing, Karl. Just not on the subjects you expected. I know that sounds so fucking twee, but it’s true. The other stuff is coming.
Happy anniversary, man. I wish you many more.
Happy blogbirthday, Karl Elvis.
I read this post a couple of days ago and then got distracted like a puppy with head trauma and forgot to comment.
I should be spanked.
CG- I’m sure that Karl would be happy to oblige… Anytime.. (There is things here that I want to think about before I think about anything more serious. But this post is old now so I can take my time.)