I can’t seem to help blogging daily on this goofy little blog spot. I am a writer and I write every day whether I publish anything or not. I am not connecting with readers through my published novels. In fact, I seem to be nose against a brick wall with publishing anything further in novel form despite doing well in writing competitions. Publishers exist mainly to make money for corporations, and creators of content of any kind are only paid serious money when the publishers are forced to by the healthy flow of cash into certain authors’ established platforms. But feeling sorry for myself is a full time job and doesn’t pay very well… actually, if you can’t afford a lawyer, it doesn’t pay anything at all. Instead I have been looking at the arc of this blog and rereading old posts. To my amazement, I actually communicate ideas much more interestingly than the goofy-drunk word-flinger I thought I was. Let me recount some of it so I can get the benefit of clip-show laziness the way television shows do.
Yesterday’s post was about the Lennon Sisters, a nostalgia post where I slathered on some goopy nostalgia about being a farm boy spending Saturday nights at my grand parents’ house and salted it with YouTube videos of the sisters singing some of my favorite songs from the Lawrence Welk Show.
The day before saw two posts about collecting Star Wars Action Figures, the twelve-inch size, not the three-inch. They are a part of my over-all G.I. Joe/ Barbie obsession and have to be the same size. One post was about the collection, and the other was a correction because I goofed on font size with speech balloons.
The post before that was me mooning about this year’s apple blossoms and how I use them to counteract the moaning about how ill allergies make me while doing yard work.
Before that was an extra-silly post about where creativity comes from, which recognizes the fact that I do, indeed, fall into the general category of “too creative to be outside of a mental institution”, but actually have no earthly idea why.
That post was preceded by a post about my antique library books that I treat as treasure, though I found them at Goodwill prices or got them free as library discards. The Sherlock Holmes books were even rescued from the middle school trash bin.
Prior to that was a post moaning about having to deal with my daughter’s cold. It gave me an excuse to re-post an old picture I drew that looks remarkably like my daughter the Princess, even though I drew it in colored pencil fifteen years before she was born and eight years before I even got married.
The post before that was about marketing my published book, and how the review I paid for ended up being about the wrong book (same title, different author). The mistake made by the book-review company has not been corrected yet even as of this writing. They haven’t refunded my money either, I have noticed.
Before that was a collage post of collected artwork and photographs from my Monster Movie file. It focused mainly on the Universal movie monsters, and it provided a worthy use for my habit of filling my computer’s memory with all kinds of pictures copied from the internet. I am a hoarder and collector in so many disgusting ways.
And on the first day of April I posted an April Fool’s Day post full of pictures I have drawn of fools and photos of foolish things.
The conclusions I have drawn by looking at the last ten days of posting include these; I definitely do not think in straight lines. I think in quirky squiggles that double back on themselves and allow freaky ideas to meet themselves mid-sentence. I also crave loopy levels of variety and my selections of topics and illustrations are completely unpredictable. I like bright colors. I dwell mostly in the past, though sometimes in the future. My mind is a lot like a boomerang, travelling woop-woop-woop willy-nilly through the air, but always coming back to essentially the same things over and over. I call all of this humor, though not all of this is funny because humor is basically pointed and takes you by surprise more often than not. But if it is good humor, you can’t help telling yourself, “You know, when you stop to think about it, it is funny, but it’s also true.”