Cancer, car accident, heart attack, murder, suicide, plane crash, anaphylactic shock, stroke, brain aneurysm, spontaneous human combustion etc…
The sad and irrefutable fact is that you and I are going to die one day. Mortality. It is the one thought that plagues me lately with regard to my daughter. What am I going to leave her that will accurately show her what sort of person I am from an entirely different perspective? What would be fitting to leave behind as an authentic account of my inner life that would be suitable legacy? Certainly I possess other writing, but even with a body of work, there is a hollowness that needs to be filled. I think I have discovered the solution to my quandary: this blog.
Fourteen months ago I began scribbling here. At the time, my intention was to say something. To scream my tiny truth into the black hole of the collective unconscious. During the creation of every page on this blog I’ve written seventy five poems which I’ve used to flog your literary sensibilities into mush. There are also assorted diatribes, photographs with accompanying captions, a short story in parts that is still sending me guilt vibes for allowing it to hang there languishing in the land of the untied shoes and unlocked doors, and of course, my personal favourite, the filler youtube videos. The result? I’ve met some astounding people. YOU. America, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, England, France, Germany,Ireland, all represented in the comments section of this little idea I had Last October.
That my friends is one helluva legacy. It’s not just my momentary rants, egocentric and elementary verse or even my lame attempts to make you laugh at least once a week. The true legacy I’m going to leave my daughter is the interaction between us, the artists. Our critiquing, witticisms, and banter are priceless. I’m going to print it out and keep it in a special book and when I’m old and grey I shall present it to her as a slice of history, mine, yours and the ever evolving history of our chosen field of creative expression. In another twenty years, this mode of communication will cease to exist in this form and it will be something else. Something faster and more sophisticated. We will all change as well and many will go on to have success while some of us will fade into obscurity, satisfied with the simple act of writing.
Okay, that’s all. Be good and send out the good vibes to at least one suffering struggling scribe who is ready to throw in towel for the eleventh time this week. My gawd, we are all such a lot of divas aren’t we? 😉