Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about a ramp, Oz the Third, and blogging.

What's up blog fam? My week's officially over, in terms of appointments and bothers, so I guess I should be moving on from that and think about catching up in the "30 Day Image Prompt Contest - CLOSED"  (which I've been saying ever since I missed a day, but I feel like I need to keep typing it down in order to remind myself...feel free to skip this intro if you ever find yourself rereading this entry). The trouble is...I feel kinda worn out mentally and physically, and I'm not entirely vibin' on the inspiration tip, but whatever. Let's just keep movin' and see what happens...

From a pure aesthetic standpoint, I love this pic. I'm a sucker for the ol' blurry, B/W mood shot...there's more to see if you look hard enough; when something isn't clear it becomes up to me and my brain to fill in the details all the megapixels can't capture.

And maybe it's just me, but doesn't this sorta remind you of a 90's grunge band's cd single? Not any band in particular, or even a popular band from that era, but something you'd see maybe ten years ago in a dollar bin at one of the few remaining indie record shops? You'd grab it, and go "Awww, I haven't heard that song in forever!" and carry it around the store with you as you browse, playing it over and over in your head until you go to cash out and then realize you don't really need it, and put it back. If it sounds like I know what I'm talking about, it's because I've done it often. And then the moment sorta sticks in my head for awhile...until I finally decide I'm gonna go back and pick up that single maybe a month or two later, but the disc is gone, or even worse, that favorite indie shop is closed. That's why you should always support your locals...you never know when they'll no longer be around, and you'll never get the same awesome, knowledgeable service from big ass chain stores.

So anyway, when I see this picture, I see the person approaching a crossroads of sorts...they'll eventually have to choose whether they're gonna go up or down. It's likely they're in a building where they have an idea of where they're going...most people do. I don't; not in this sense. I have no direction right now, nor is it entirely imperative at the time being, although I'm starting to get antsy enough that by the end of most days I'm too bored to even sleep and agitated enough to wanna brawl with a neighbor for disturbing my uneasy peace. It's a rough life, this being medicated shit.

But back to today, this Thursday, this picture...we'll throw back a little along the way, pray we're not skateboarding down this ramp with the need to make a quick decision or we're so scrambled in our indecisiveness that we wind up in the hard middle, and ride the way down like I'm on a waterslide  . That's how it's gotta be if you're on the slope...if you're headin' down, glide and wiggle and take down everything in your way you possibly can.

"You wake up, get out of bed and open the door. You are in OZ! You meet the munchkins, scarecrow, lion, tinman, the witches from the second movie (The Great and Powerful Oz) and James Franco is the Wizard. What happens next? This is your adventure."

Oh snap! I almost ignored this prompt, because James Franco...I'm not yet sold on him, and I never saw that second movie, but I'm a crazy good fan of the original. Plus, I wanted to be the Wizard, and apparently Franco ganked my role, but I'll play along because Princess Megan Snow Rose is my girl, and I'm feelin' like a good sport today even though I don't know how I'm gonna approach this.

Because it's a movie, let's pretend I wake up, but I'm not straight wakin' up...I'm dreaming that I woke up, and when I opened my door it pushed back the wizard's curtain to see that James Franco is pullin' levers and runnin' game over Oz. I went to sleep as just a 5'6" munchkin; somehow I've gained unfettered access to the great and powerful, because I'm next in line.

But I, in my characteristic unwillingness to learn from deceitful shills or unsavory lemmings, am just not satisfied watching Franco in wizardly drag continue to masquerade...if I'm gonna take his throne, it's gonna be done my way, so my people can see that what we've come to know and accept is wrong. We're being taken for a ride, and "that's the way it's always been" isn't how it always has to be. It's known that I'm gonna succeed Franco eventually, and he's not happy about it- he's rather pissed, and I'm just in his way because he eventually wants to sell out Oz and turn it into a tourist trap...but instead of just forcing visitors to walk through a gift shop at the end of their journey, he's gonna magically turn them into docile munchkins (something the brochures for Oz don't mention).

So I hafta get on some ol' James Bond/Bill Cosby shit and stealthily take this playa out. Knowing now is the time or the future of humanity, my people, and future citizens are doomed, I'll risk a sleepless couple of days down the road and slip some of my Ambiens and Doxepins into his ginger ale. Then I'll pistolwhip him with one of those ancient handguns with the long barrels for good measure, and let a good witch sidecar broom-fly his ass over some mountains, where he'll "magically disappear" . By that point I'll have learned enough to know I know too much, but also a lot about how to run and not run our great land of Oz.

Sure, I strongarmed my way into the highest position on the Oz's food chain, but I had to...I couldn't take Franco's shit no more. He's a fraud, a phony...a stand-in for real acting. Errryone rejoiced once the word got around; munchkins were happy and witches knew I had it in me to lead and be amazing. We partied like it was 1998 all over again.

And my first official act as super-wizard-boy-genius-manchild of Oz was to symbolically tear down the curtain between me and everyone else, because I longed for transparency for so long in the highest of offices. I kicked my Doc Martens up in the console, and thought, "This is now my home...this is now my home...this is..." and dozed off into a daydrunken nap. I woke up with a pillowcase around my head in the shape of a wizard's cone hat, convinced I'm as equally superior as everyone else below me should feel and everyone above me should be frightened into working with.

And then I had a flashback that James Franco was dangling off a branch on the side of a candy mountain, awaiting rescue for a sequel where he plots revenge on me, his new arch-enemy.

"What is your favorite part about blogging? Do you see yourself doing it for a long time?"

Excellent...I love talking about blogging like this.

I started blogging years ago...I was poetically dead, so to speak- I knew I wanted to write, but wasn't getting anything out of writing (my brand of) poetry anymore. I also wanted to become more involved in the WDC community, which I also wasn't getting as much as I could out of. I joined a couple of groups, but they died out and the one that remained was run by Sister Mary Muggingsworth, who is probably still infecting suckas around here with her batshit craziness. Blogging in general was still a toddler back then, kinda learning its way but occasionally wetting the bed and uncomfortable for adults to acknowledge its presence in the halls of serious writing. I figured I'd give it a shot, and learn about it and hopefully grow with it.

And that was seven or eight years, three other blogs started and filled, and over 1000 entries ago. The best part? Meeting new people along the way, like Kåre เลียม Enga and Creeper Of The Realm back when she was just a Yellow Witch, and kindred brothers like Charlie ~ , Mitchopolis and Brother Nature , and wonderful people like Lyn's a Witchy Woman , and so many, many others...when you read blogs and yours become read and you have that back-and-forth with people, and you learn so much about each other and you click with them, it's really a fantastic experience. It's beautiful on so many levels that you might not've seen before in the actual people around you. It's been eye-opening. It's definitely helped me change and reshape my entire worldview.

And on top of that, blogging has served to reinvigorate my love of poetry (albeit in the way I have always chosen to write and experience it). It's sorta been my gateway/reentry point and inspirational source. I see what someone like Cinn or ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy writes, and how they turn phrases or memories into works they're proud of sharing, and it reinforces the notion that I can do it too. And working alongside Wordsmitty ✍️ on the Blogging Bliss newsletter each month, I get a taste of what else is out there that maybe I normally wouldn't come across...it's like cultural source-ery. Find me if you want more details about it, or if you want to sign up for our monthly spin on this great little (but always expanding and now thriving) community.

Will I always keep doing it (blogging)? Probably. It's where I feel most at home. It satisfies my creative urges. It keeps me active on WDC regularly, and it helps me interact with others as well- both here and not online. I'm comfortable in the idea of Blogville. I have both friends I haven't seen in years and family that encourage me and keep up with me through my blog, and I'm very thankful for that. It rarely asks anything more of me than my time and input, and like anything else in life you get out of it what you put in (most of the time). I joined up with the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  a few years back because other blogger friends were doing it, and I wanted to see where I stood compared to other writers (I do have a competitive streak in me). Winning it was an amazing high, but I never wanted to run it...then it got dropped in my lap and it's still the longest-running blogging group on WDC, which I'm very thankful for and proud of. I went from Fivesixer...blog CHAMP!! to being a person who champions blogging and our beautiful community of creative thinkers. And I don't want to let that go. As long as blogging is still a thing, and it will be for a very long time, I'll be a part of it. Peace to 30DBC Creator/Founder , Thundersbeard 30DBC JULY HOST , Emily (who kept the 30DBC running and helped make it what it is today), and competitors past and present for continuing to provide voices that we read and write to and for in a big part of WDC's vast community that wasn't as present back in the early days. I'm just a small instrument in the grand orchestra blogging has become.

I was completely at a loss today for music regarding this entry, even though I had my iPod with me most of the morning. Nothing was setting in for me; maybe because I was slightly preoccupied with appointments and errands. But sometimes writing puts songs in your head...and thankfully it's Throwback Thursday for some of you, so I'm going back to that emo sound, when emo was still a debatable thing that didn't include pop hits tartable like toaster pastries. Just gimme a guitar riff that lets me get lost in my own wonder, with lyrics that nudge me along into the bliss of maybes and what becomes of that. This song in particular will be what the emo kids from the last two decades will daze out to in twenty years as their next "jam bands" (and please don't get all Grateful Dead or Phish on me, because we're not all of the same time/place when wonder and mood strikes us in the only way we know how to get lost in a memorable musical lilt).

"I am but one small instrument."
Lyrics.  

I'm only sharing this because I absolutely hate shaving. I tried to do without it for soooo long, but then I ended up like this:

And I got tired of all the comparisons to hillbilly redneck homophobes who shoot guns for aimless kicks and the love of calling ducks, so I went for a more svelte look once I got a beard-trimmer and decided I should kinda care about how I look again. And I do clean up nicely, I suppose. But I'm fascinated by people with the patience to time-lapse themselves for prosperity, like this guy  . I love a god damn great beard. But I got annoyed so much when I was trying to eat because that sumbitch kept acting less like a style accessory and more like a bib for an infant. And clearly, I have no problem feeding myself without it. But I do miss my big-ass beard. It was one less physical trait that warded off the chicks that might've thought on first impression that I was cute, and helped me not to open my mouth and prove maybe I wasn't. Life was so much easier then...it's a bitch trimming, even with an electric aid. Keeping my shit nice and tight while not disrupting my attempt at dredlocks is a fucking chore.

Pain is normal in my everyday life. And even when I'm sleeping...I dream crazy shit that often haunts me from past bad decisions, and I've documented this before, but yesterday was something, uhhh, special. I woke myself up during dreaming I was being bullied at Depew's new Boys & Girls Club gym by kicking the asshole who wanted to steal my new Jordans (from back in the day when I got my first pair of Jordans...so, like, 1990? 1991?). I resorted in my dream to stomping him after a confrontation over me shooting airballs and missing easy layups, so my pride was already low, and this kid tried to be my friend but wound up trying to steal from me. In reality, I started booting hard the wall next to my bed with my sorta good (but better than the other) foot...fuck. Who wakes themselves up by smashing a wooden-paneled wall with their foot, to the point it's swollen and hella uncomfortable to trod upon life with? Like, alright, nothing's broken, but this shit hurts! Makes my right flip-flop not feel right! And why? Why do I do this? This is why I'm so ok with never sharing a bed again with anyone! I never asked for this, and it's made me want to never share a bed with anyone ever no matter how big and fancy and comfy it is (and I know I've talked about this before)..."Hey, you're cute, lemme spend the night at your place where I might randomly kick the shit outta you with my legs while we're sleeping!" No. Nope. I won't subject myself to anyone if that's maybe a case of me. I've nope'd myself out of a lot of things in life by either being too cautious of a person or by having seen enough of too much. Ain't no middle ground in these bones, I guess .

Eh, still much more to say, but I've reached my "fuck it" point and I just want today to be done so I can roll it over into maybe a better tomorrow. Peace, I shall ask you this once again, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!