I am in a strange-to-me place in life at the current time of 16:12 on October 11th: recently retired and living on cornbread, beans, and fried potatoes while coming to grips with a 68 year-old body that was chained to a desk gangplank most of her life. I suddenly understand the colloquialism "hair shirt" more personally. I once felt at ease at this blogging game, but now...it's like trying to type on a rusty old manual Underwood that's lived for decades in an abandoned beach shack, said "hair shirt" a constant irritation.
Finally sitting at my bedroom desk last evening, trying to remember the html tricks I once memorized and executed effortlessly, the damned keyboard remained silent. It was uncomfortable and I gave up in both sadness and frustration; sighing heavily I headed downstairs to our lovely deck with my Alexa speaker and a bottle of cheap Rioja. (My oft-summoned muse in the form of Hemingway approved the motion.)
A few weeks ago while searching for the early bloggers I once communicated with almost daily, I gave thought to some wonderful voices now silent except for their ghostly postings still online (for which I am grateful):
Mary Scrivener as Prairie Mary
Steve Krodman as Lost in the Cheese Aisle
Bruce Brownlee as BleakMouse
Chris Locke as Kat Herding
Ronni Bennett as Time Goes By
Maybe I will reconnect and find my old voice; more likely it will be a NEW old voice -vintage with some Bitters of Experience, heavy on the bite.
Yours Till the Cows Come Home - CP
6 comments:
Yay! Brava! Cool! This took a lot of courage, I know. After years of being silent, I hope to see a resurgence of old and newer blogging friends. We need seasoned voices more than ever.
I agree! Thanks mucho
Glad you’re taking another pass at it. You were always too good to not do it.
À la recherche du temps perdu...
Monsieur Proust gives me a whispered warning of what might lurk...
Hang in there, CP, and know that you're not alone in either the feeling that old friends are disappearing (some from the blogosphere, and some from earthly life) at an alarming rate, or the fear/realization that the same fate lurks for us somewhere out there. But some of us are determined to soldier on, even if some -- like me -- have no idea where they're headed, but are still eager to drag some unwary souls with us because we're sure they'll be better people for the journey.
I'm a fixin' to give you a link over at the Gazette for this serendipitous shared wavelength. ¡Gracias, amiga!
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