WordPress has informed me that my blog is officially a teenager, turning 13 just a few days before I wrote this (and, hopefully, edited) this post. As a way to celebrate, I decided to spruce up the blog a bit.
The new blog banner and logo were created using Canva. I played around with the idea of purchasing a new theme, but things look sparse on WordPress these days. Not sure if they’ve retired several themes, or if I’m not searching correctly. In the meanwhile, I swapped the background and color scheme. Close enough, am I right?
On the brink of death, you have a lot of time to think. You’re no longer working on the abstract sense of time that waking, living humans are accustomed to; you begin working on dream-time. The time where a single minute can span hours, even decades, of your life.
The writing bug has bitten me; you can tell by the amount of Iggy Pop music I’ve been consuming. And while this blog is on my mind, it hasn’t been in the forefront. Not for a while, anyway. Not since I left my job at the public library. Not since COVID forced us all inside. While I am writing a post for it, I don’t foresee it being published any time soon. My mind is running with ideas for the future, for my creative outlet. And I think the post I’m working out might be the first in a new outlet.
An old voice also visited me, which would explain the Iggy Pop. The above quote is from the story I’m writing. And I’m taking it from a different angle. A more Tim O’Brien angle. Mixing the story-truth and the happening-truth in order weave the tales I created post high school and during my college years. And rather telling it from the point of view of the character as it happened, but I will now tell it in my present voice.
So in the meanwhile, this blog will be filled with song lyrics, poetry breaks, and book reviews.
I started my book blog – The Book Hunter’s Journal – on 27 June 2009 with a post about a $3-bag book sale at the McAllen Public Library. My partners in crime were, of course, Monica and an excited Squid. With my 446th post, made on 17 June 2013, I said goodbye to the blog and remained focus on this one. And I’ve been here since.
Some part of me acknowledges my prematurity of the post “Of the Sea.” Not because the feelings expressed within the post have dissipated, but what follows is depressing. I’ve traversed a three-year road, and here is where I stand. I’m not look over my shoulder, and each day I fight the urge to take a gander at what I lost. A few months ago, I made a promise to myself. It’s been a trying task.
The purpose of “Lessons in Love & Loss” isn’t a depressing one. It just reads that way. It’s a three-part post: Letter to Jeanna, Letter to Shaun, and an epilogue post stillbeing stitched. These posts will not appear one after the other. At least, I don’t anticipate posting them in such a meaningless fashion.
I expect “Letter to Jeanna” ready for posting by this weekend. In addition to these future post, I’m working on a lyrical essay inspired by an episode of The Memory Palace. I hope that this, too, will find a home on the “pages” of Chapin City Blues.
Now that we’re all caught up, I’ll leave you at the fold. Take care dear readers.
From the pages of Thought Processing (my handwritten journal):
Purchase a copy of Yes Please by Amy Poehler and highlight the shit out of that book.
Screw the partnership. Start writing posts for the books we carry and hopefully others will follow. Maybe ask local writer friends to write a post about their favorite book (the one that said this is it. I’m a writer/reader/book lover). (Michael Jones, Richard Sanchez, Anne Estevis, etc.)
Start working on “Stories for Shaun” in lieu of “Letters to Shaun.” Regular WordPress blog?
What’s phase 3? More about life and writing? More books? More posts about being a father? Bug Ashton about new banner.
Write. Write. Write. Never stop writing.
Possible post titles:
1. Lessons in Letting Go
2. Letter to Jeanna—”The Greatest Bastard” Damien Rice.
Stop being so afraid of moving forward, goddamnit!
There are shards of memories I want to share with you. Maybe to put together, or maybe to bury. Truth is, I don’t know what I want to do with them. The only thing we can be certain of is that these pieces aren’t meant to hollow a path to return to us. They aren’t bread crumbs from a crumbling romance grown stale and moldy. They’re simply shards of memories. A declaration. A proclamation. Just reminders that it was never in my intention to let you down.
Sometimes I forget [illegible] There are times when you don’t get a rejection. Sometimes this [illegible] rejectionlessness eats you up more than a no would. You begin to feel that you are so unworthy of anything
There are times when you don’t get a rejection. And, at times, this may seem worse than if she had just said no. A part of you There’s nothing you can do about this one. Asking again is just a set up [for] ridicule. If you were clear of your intentions the first time, a second time will not garner you an answer.
Never expose yourself to the world [illegible] Several people will say personality trumps everything else. However, I’ve noticed the vanity of those around on a day to day basis. This is not to deter you from trying to meet someone who is “out of your league.” There are no leagues. Just shallow and the deep. Shallow people are the here and now. They say things like, “Can you blame me for They create superficial high standards. They care only about chiseled features or unnaturally large tits. They worship cosmetics like a Christian Catholic on Easter Sunday.
[…]
I wonder when I grow old, my face will remain scowled. As if my expectations of the world have left me perpetually disappointed.
Chapin City Blues 