God help me....

God help me, I’ve started blogging.  Let me explain why as a member of the last of the analogue generations I am doing this, more to myself probably than anyone reading this, who presumably also blogs and says to blog as a verb, as I am, as we all do now as if this were something human beings have done for millennia when in fact it’s so recent and yet so ubiquitous that it takes on an eerie sense of inevitability when it is anything but….

So this preamble answers the question already, doesn’t it?  I can whitter on and on and on and for the rest of my writing that I do, that’s not necessarily a good thing.  It might not be a good thing here either, but in the world of ‘blogging’ no one can stop me, no one has to read me and like so there.

I am writing to experiment also with anonymity in public, not because I think I’m so important you can’t know who I am or that I am particularly mysterious but because I have a horrible tendency, already visible from the above writing to perform and I am hoping eventually I can stop and if I’m not performing, or at least performing a certain persona I usually associate with myself, perhaps I can find out about other parts of myself and the world in general that would not normally surface if I attached My Name to it.

So it’s a reality project really…a strange thing to embark on in a virtual world, I acknowledge and yet, and yet, and yet…perhaps this is what is on offer here.  Perhaps this is the good bit in that which I usually disparage especially when any of my friends try futily to get me onto that demon spawn: Facebook.  That place wherein everyone not only hands over the last shreds of their privacy but can ‘friend’ and ‘unfriend’ each other in an horrifying replication of junior highschool as if once was not Bad Enough….but I digress…

From what exactly do I digress?  See this is another thing about ‘blogging’ that intrigues me, there appears to be no need to stay on point or even have a point and for that I am grateful…and the anonymity thing, for me, is to stay on this track and hopefully avoid self-promotion but instead offer a service to myself and God/dess help you anyone else who is reading this of a life being examined, felt, shown and turned inside out in public-private.

Why?

This is the question that has stopped me from blogging for years.  And the only reason I have right now is that a friend of mine is doing her version of this and I admire her and her blog for it.  She has some specific stuff she’s working through but that doesn’t keep her from digressing, which seems as important as any other part of the desire ‘to blog’.

I will think of this as a fictional-factual place…something in between where reality may sneak in, as reality is of course both real, as in tangible and also about the multiple stories we tell ourselves without which we would never have come up with the word ‘reality’ in the first place.

Read recently in the NY Times I think about certain tribes of people that exist still with no sense of ‘solipsistic’ direction and instead speak of north south east and west and if they are referring to north, and it’s behind them, they will point to themselves, not to refer to themselves but to point north as if they are invisible or at least irrelevant to this idea somewhere else.  Can you imagine?  No, me neither, which is exactly why I hope those people don’t get wiped out to make more McDonald’s Happy Meals, though I imagine in this day and age that’s just too fucking much to ask.

Sigh.

Anyone who does know me will already know who I am by what I have just written above.  Hi there!  You’re right, it’s me!

I can’t point to myself as if I’m invisibile and mean ‘north’.  I blog now.  I blog therefore I am, etc.  God only knows how many people have written that last line, ah well…

Did I mention, I’m trying not to edit, so all my dumb ass ideas will come out too.  So any thought I have that I’m such a smarty pants will disappear as well.  This would be all for the best, as I imagine, if you have read this far, you will agree.

It’s any identity project/reality project…but the issue of identity is  as above so relative to the culture that it’s political and philosophical too, because it is, it all is, I still believe that after all these years of feminisim, post-feminism, post-post-post feminisim, etc..ad nauseum, the personal is political.  Because how could it not be?

It’s in the way you walk

It’s in the way you talk

The way you sing off key…..

You can’t take that away from me….

This is actually how I write stuff, plays mostly, so at any point this may turn into a stage text with voices and stuff

And then it may end up in a play, so like don’t use this shit without asking, OK?

I’m about to go see a friend of mine I haven’t seen in 34 years.  She was my best friend in grammar school and we lost each other in our teens and just found each other recently.  Does that happen without the internet?  I’m not so sure.  She lives in an unlikely place and I am on the train to that place.  I am returning to the scene of the crime.  Not to her place but intermediary points.  And she was there, she was the witness to my childhood, which was also the scene of many crimes.  More than any child should have to endure but that a depressing amount of children do.

You know the drill, alcoholism, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, the whole fun family of childhood horror, wherein as the child you decide the parents can’t be wrong (and in my case there were many parents) and so You are wrong.  This is not new, many have said it, many have experienced it.  It is mentioned here because it’s true, or as true as anything is true and the water I see next to me outside the train window is true or the fact that you who may be reading this are alive, alive enough to be reading words on a screen with a blinking cursor for company and me, your new anonymous friend.

Anonymous too because yes I am also a sober alcoholic and alanonic and all that too.  And we are supposed to remain anonymous, not that anyone does anymore, but as it’s in our traditions, I like to hew to it, because it keeps me out of the drama-rama pool, though sometimes I’d love to break that anonymity in public, I will tell you yes I would…

But, no.  23 years of life that exists thanks to belonging to an anonymous fellowship of people who make no money and have no leaders and give you your life, money and family back.  Not gonna mess with it.  And for any of you who think I’m in a cult, see above.  If it’s a cult, it’s a bad cult – no one makes money, no one is the leader and it gives you your life, your money and your family and friends back and the only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking.  I’ll stick with the crappy cult.

Are you with me?  Still?!  Wow, I’m so impressed if so, and you’re probably a friend either known or soon to be known.

Tell me tell me tell me tell me do about your life, the way you see things and if you can point through yourself to ‘north’.  There is so much more to heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophies….

Basta for now…here it goes into the virtual wilds….anyone out there????