After yesterday's blog which, with the graphic, took a couple of hours I suppose, I came away with a sense of satisfaction. This, despite knowing those who pass through here regularly, who take the time to read the blog, and/or leave a comment, are the "choir."
Lately, as a meager voice in the chamber, I've begun to feel all my singing, all our singing, is but some melodic resonance heard only by us, the members of the chorus. And, god, how good we sound--to us! But we're always rehearsing, never performing publicly, despite our best intentions.
Yesterday's simple graphic was a graphic born of love. It took an hour or two to track down images for some inspiration of an idea and "paint" them into a cohesive blog picture. Afterwards, I stepped back, studied it and, combined with the story of a sick president still stuck in some prepubescent nightly manipulation of model battleships in his bedtime bathtub war games of a lifelong egomaniacal "must have my way" manifestation on a global scale now endangering all of us on Earth, I was pleased.
But I'm only "singing to the choir." And, for all I know, the days I have remaining on this Earth may be numbered. Not by Nature and natural causes, not by global warming and all the people now reaping its wrath around the world as but a hint of better thing to come, but by some god-awful unnatural illegitimate bastardized aberration that now leads this country--and the world--into a future unknown, a future with potential dangers even these defiant nose-thumbing bastards can't foresee.
And so I question how I might better spend my time, the time I spend here raging against the machine--or rehearsing, always rehearsing, here in a chorus of beautiful voices that do just that--rehearse, but never publicly perform. And--as a result--I have vowed to back off, knowing that what I do here isn't worth the electrons written on these faux pages, dependent on some increasingly tenuous faith in them to reach the "congregation," or project these thoughts forward into the future.
Oh, I still enjoy blogging as a means of expressing myself. It's what I'm expressing that makes me weary. Yet, before I go quietly into a new direction (hopefully), I have a rant or two to express yet. So bear with me--hopefully--after that, the aesthetics herein will improve! (I think.)