This month’s note emerges from the bottom of what appears to be a deep hole, out of which with diligent shoveling I continue trying to extricate myself.
At this writing, my efforts have resulted in little more than increasing the distance between the top of a deepening cavern and the floor upon which I stand. No matter the hours invested, only more distance appears between where I am and where I would seek to be in response to what has proven more than less continuous exertion.
Meanwhile, though a man’s fascination with digging seems only to increase, what remains unclear is whether that’s despite or because of the results.
From within such ordinary maelstroms, this writer’s work is completed.
Also, let it not be said a man did not suffer for his art. Recall instead long years keeping alight a flame known of by few and cared for by less. Remember too, in such crusades most writers toil, seeking not immortality but release from the relentless grasp of an undying compulsion.
Life after all, remains neither more nor less than what you choose to make it.
This writer has, and ever will a man would suppose, always appreciated that fact most.
As the end draws undeniably nearer, the joy received from what has proven a daily grind increases despite the increasing moan of old age’s infirmity. While not an unwelcome surprise, with the vigor of youth but receding memory a man is doubtless best-off spending as much time looking ahead as he is back.
Despite knowing what’s left behind most often defines the way forward.
It has been this writer’s intent to describe with his work a continuous discourse upon a singular experience. Using a variety of forms and media, from poetry and prose to music and acting, from CD and mp3 through assorted journals, ezines, blogs, indie films, the Kindle and at last paperback, documenting everyday happenstance was the first goal.
As result, a fictional account of life among those either less fortunate or not famous might in time be constructed.
The record of an enrichment otherwise unknown, by his own hand and those of his fellows, could thus also be documented. As factually as fiction allowed, under the fiercest of editorial restrictions should the writer produce his record. By careful alteration and inconsistent addition, using incoherent sequencing and unreliable subtraction, the routine and unbelievable circumstance of experience would be reconstructed into a series of near recognizable literary landscapes.
From building blocks of existential philosophy and metaphor, with equal parts sarcasm and symbolism, tales of heartrending adventure, bold farce and tragic romance are told, each within the framework of fictional memoir. Found there, is entertainment, distraction, perhaps an insight or two, and with luck, a brief respite from the temporal confines in which all of us here are ever trapped.
No more, and nothing less.
As mentioned on near countless occasions, the contents of these notes much like the writer’s works are intended to momentarily distract. Neither this man nor the writer have interest in leveraging either the work or the site as a platform from which to espouse personal political opinions.
For to this belief the writer holds: the greatest gift an artist can give is that of entertainment.
That does not mean a man is either unaware or ignorant to the societal divisions now running amok around the world and here at home. For the first time since the turbulent nineteen sixties of my early childhood, the evil forces of racism and bigotry take to the streets, publicly inciting the always simmering fuse of privately repressed intolerance, ignorance and hate. From the despicable rhetoric spewing from the highest political office of our closest geographic neighbor to the deplorable anti-Semitic rants of regional right-wing municipal politicians, current public discourse demonstrates both populist bigotry and systemic racism at levels unseen since World War II.
As a less-visible member of a historically repressed minority group in my own country, a man is disappointed by the situation to say the least, and concerned for the future of progressive society if pushed to say more.
To those interested in such matters meanwhile, it’s unmistakeably clear that left-leaning and progressive ideology govern in these parts. If these facts arrive as news to you after reading or hearing any of my work, you must at once consider occupying yourself with less challenging intellectual pursuits. For in the writer’s opinion, it could scarce be more obvious.
Despite and whatever our differences might be however, a shared commitment to live and let live is what allows our democracy to work.
Besides, that’s not the point of either this site or its contents.
The site is devoted to literary entertainment and the pursuit of insight about the human condition. If you’re in search of an argument, look elsewhere. As not only in fact but also by intent, a man has neither time nor patience for the vast ignorance driving much of the vicious anger now threatening the peace and freedom of our democracy.
Even less when confronted by endless work and ever-lessening time in which to complete it.
For to this man at least, the attempt is everything. Around here, honor is believed located in commitment to a task considered ethically just, not its completion. As such and in most cases, neither success nor failure can be properly apportioned by reviewing apparent results.
Thus, in every writer’s work is found a secret.
It has of course, been left for the reader to decipher with but a simple caution: nothing is as it seems, and you must look inside to discover each person’s story.
On that note, we turn to the all-important local literary news.
With the calendar showing no sign of slowing down, the struggle to complete proof reading the manuscript of third novel ‘One Fate Befalls’ while awaiting a formatting date continues. With any luck, the novel arrives before the holidays and the fast approaching end of another year.
Watch the site for news.
Thanks for sharing the blog.
- TFPOctober 14, 2017