Further Down the Road

I began mucking about in this corner of cyberspace eighteen years ago today. I screamed to prove my existence, but was also afraid someone would discover I really had nothing to say. So far, so good. So what? I understand enough of the world and the technology that drives it to appreciate that I was yelling theater in a crowded fire and might very well happen to catch the eye and ear of those whose native tongue is other than my own.

I make no apologies for or to you if you have stopped by. I appreciate the notes that crop up and pop up either here at the bottom of the page or via an email link that I still don't understand (I am consistent) but a suggestion like 'walk east until your hat floats' isn't especially useful since while I occasionally wear a Kickers ball cap, more often than not, I'm bare-headed (and mostly bald-headed).

My point, although not precisely at this moment, is that I write this for myself. It is therapeutic, perhaps equal parts Jung and Fromm (more hopefulness in the latter) or maybe not. This space serves as the wall against which I fling handfuls of, well, you can guess what I fling, and no matter what you choose, you'd be right. But make sure you're wearing gloves, should we meet, because I like to shake hands. And if you are, I'll try to lick the side of your face, because that's how I roll (over and fetch).

I've gone back and looked at this stuff from the start through here and now. It must be artistic or autistic because I don't get it. Would that I did, and pretty arrogant of me to then hope/assume it would mean something to you. That does sound like me, to be honest. I think 'sound' is the operative word.

Having spent most of a lifetime in people's cars and houses on and in the radio, I'm used to working things out in a semi-private manner, more because I have to than because you want me to. And the beauty of radio over face-to-face is when you give up and walk away, I don't know it, and continue on like that tree in the forest.

The bigger the world has gotten in scale and scope, the more intimate it has become through connectivity that was created for other reasons but upon which I have now hitched my wagon. I started writing this because I had no voice where I lived and even less where I worked. I had, like so many of us, freedom of speech as long as I didn't use it.

In my part of the enchanted forest, we were being rendered invisible, and if I learned nothing from my father, and the jury's still very much out on that, I learned to wield words as weapons that could wound and hurt those who would harm mine. "Let the bastards thrive, for all I care. Since I can do nothing to stop them except embarrass them by running away."

It should be sobering, all these years after starting to clean out the stables, there's still as much once processed equine output as there is everywhere. Most, far too much, of it comes from the biped variety. I live in a target-rich environment, and so do you. We can complain or we can clean up, but we can't do both, at least not at the same time. I've opted for the latter.

I've chosen macro and micro to witness who we are and how we are with one another when we think no one is watching (actually, especially when we think no one is watching). I'm not better than others because I know I'm fatally flawed.

When I say I do not forget, I don't mean I'm single-minded (though I am two-faced). I remember everything that has ever happened to me, who was there, what they wore, what they said, and most importantly, what they did (and didn't). When I say I don't forgive, that's when I'm vengeful and vindictive. I have seven-plus decades of scores, real and imagined, to settle, as futile as that really is. Leave it to God? Please. He crucified His own Son-He couldn't care less about my injuries.

For the kindness of your company all these years, I thank you. I wasn't always aware you were here, when you arrived, or when you left. Thank you nevertheless. I suspect I was not the best company, but you're not all that surprised, since you knew that when you picked me up. 

I started this as a cyber shout to prove how different I was and have, to this juncture, more often celebrated how similar we are. I think that part has been mostly your doing, and thank you for that as well. 
-bill kenny