Checking in...

Almost 2 full years have passed since I last published a Blog under this header, yet, this month the overall site gathered over 70 views. That's probably a mistake, but it's still flattering.

I read back through a couple of the posts today. It was like seeing through a window into another life. I vaguely remember the guy on the other side: a younger, arrogant, self absorbed version of this older, arrogant, self absorbed man. On any given day he put his every thought out there on his chosen topic of interest. He pounded his dramatically charged opinions into the ground with ease. In some cases it's very over the top and in others, very unrefined and too metaphoric. I would delete the worst of them, but I must respect the thoughts of a younger me. After all, his beloved blog documented several years of learning, healing, and general bitching about my life and musical interests. Keeping these words around may prove to be cathartic still as I continue this journey.

These days however I am a bit more story driven. I always incorporated stories into my writing, but now I find myself with desire to craft better tales versus short form opinion articles. I have many visions on where this new journey will lead. I'd like to document my acclimation into the deep south. Write of travel and adventure. Tell my own story in a format exclusive to the tale. I want to inspire and be inspired once again.

But there is more... I desire to write my of tales of hatred and tolerance, of ignorance and brilliance, of oppression and deliverance, and ultimately of redemption and acceptance. I have known them all intimately, and labored to keep a sense of humor while communicating the madness of a cranial documenteur in his own triumphs and folly. Words to be re-crafted from memory with virtual quill and ink onto futuristic pages for the world, or no one at all, to read if chosen to do so.

I find a growing love for modern Americana inclusive to the popular culture of more recent times. This America is filled with my generation's nostalgia, not just the traditional wagon wheels and Coca-Cola signs we see on antiquity driven media. The tobacco and cotton fields of rural North Carolina in the age of information show me how the two co-exist in harmony as my new community, empowered by those of my generation, struggles with its place in this new world. I just need to find the words to tell the tales hidden in the air around me, and channel them correctly.

Lastly, I find myself at a spiritual crossroads. I believe we all have purpose, and I may be ignoring mine. To continue to do so would be criminal to myself and my potential purpose, even if that purpose is not clearly defined. Better still, if my writing is a gift then I should not ignore it any longer, nor ignore the desire to do so, as neither have degraded during my absence. I view this abstinence as a refresh and an opportunity to distance the words of today from the words of a man less experienced, but with blind admiration and love for his words as they brought me to this next starting point...

Time... Is flowing like a river... To the sea.

Nago - 01/29/2020