Hahahahaha, I finally remembered/relearned some rudimentary HTML and CSS. And also, in the process, learned some new tricks.
So, hopefully, this project I've been pseudo putting off for months will finally get done riiiiiiiight in time for me to go on vacation. That is, unless I get unexpectedly swamped with other rando bullshit. Which, to be honest, not all that unexpected.
Still, go me.
(And yeah, lemme beat you to the wisecracks: I should really fix my damned homepage while I'm at it. But that's a job for future Josh, who doesn't have 5 separate work-related projects and a handful more non-work-related ones in the hopper. Maybe a very far-flung future Josh. Good luck buddy!)
It's January again, which means yet again, I remember that I've got this blog that I don't do a damned thing with. One goal this year is to get this whole website moved over to my own server, because I like to backwards in time rather than embracing the virtual machine, cloud-based future. I've always wanted to run my own server for some weird 90's-kid-nostalgic reason. That's what you did when the Internet was cool and new to me, and I never had the technical chops (or the consistent network) to give it a shot.
Welp, we'll see how that goes.
Seeya next year, probably.
(Side note: I'd probably post a lot more here if not for A) Twitter, which fulfills that urge to shout into the void quite well, and B) the fact that I won't write about work, whether out of concern for privacy or worry over its banality. And since I seem to spend the vast majority of my life either actively or passively working...)
(So it goes.)
Man am I terrible at this. In my own defense, I am admittedly terrible, and I went and got myself promoted at work, like a damned fool, which has eaten the small pieces of work/life balance I used to pretend I had. But still.
Josh, you big dummy.
So... Given the turning over of the calendar, I've made a resolution to A) Read one book per week, and B) Give my opinion on it. As such, I should probably go ahead and use this website, since I keep paying for it.
First book up is Angelmaker, by Nick Harkaway. After that, well, we'll see what's in the pile.
Talk to you soon!
We have a complicated relationship, you and I. For the longest time I denied you. Held you out of my life as a demon, a mistress of whispered blisses and joy-blind slides down torn and turgid tracks. I heeded the authoritative klaxons, was even awarded for their echo. I was, as defined, good.
I saw you, sure, saw your smirk upon the faces of my friends, your scent on their fingers, turned tightly through their hair, leeching from their pores. I saw your scattered path upon the grass. I wouldn't walk there, though. Not for anything.
Curiosity is a hard thing to brook. When possibility lingers there, always just off the end of your fingers, the current it conjures can overwhelm. So I dipped my toe in the water. I let you whisper on my lips. I didn't feel anything. Not hot, not cold, not happy, not sad. Merely throat burned and muddled, confused. "That's what I was missing, what I was being warned away from? I don't feel anything."
"It's common, the first time, not to. Try it again."
I did. I kissed again.
"This! This is what I was missing! This is what they warned me about? This?!"
I'd been hoodwinked. Again and again I walked that foggy path, our fingers entwined, and again and again I did not die. Didn't ache, didn't hurt, didn't crave through clenched teeth or turn toxic in my need. It wasn't anything but a key to a door I didn't know was there, a door to your little chamber inside myself, a room with a particular sort of view.
It was a beautiful bloom.
We met in parking lots. In alleys and between dumpsters. In rooms with toweled doors and scented candles. Even, when we were feeling frisky, out among the open skies. We were lovers without a love nest, making do with where we were, what we had, who we were. We were young. We were in love.
It has been a rocky romance. You've cost me, dear, cost me more than you've ever paid. You became not merely a jealous lover but a crutch, a method for coping with a world that, whether through your tint or not, I do and can not know, looked harder and harder to exist within. But you were there. Your arms were always open and always so inviting, so warm to the touch, so tender upon the lips. You made it easy, or at least easier.
What one doesn't notice, however, when they depend upon a crutch, is how they tend to atrophy toward its continued use. You were so easy to love that you grew hard to set aside. I brought you everywhere with me, all the time. You were always on my mind, a peach whose nectar flavored everything in reach until the only thing I tasted was your honeyed lips upon my own. I was lost in bliss. And I have to find my way out.
See, here's the thing: It's not you, it's me. I can't go on like this, living like you and I are all there is. Because we're not. I'm not. I'm so much more than this, than our little corner of this great big world. And I'm holding myself back, if only to be with you. I can't anymore. I'm sorry.
Look, we knew it would be this way. That it couldn't be forever. I set dates, drew lines, and yet broke them and crossed them to be with you and you alone. But I can't any longer. This can't go on. It has to end here.
We'll go our separate ways, you and I, walk our separate paths where they diverge, here, at the tips of our toes. I'll walk along a while, feeling our ways wander apart across each passing mile. I'll be alright alone. I will.
I won't say I won't miss you. That I won't look back. But I must be Orpheus and you my Eurydice. You must stay and I must trudge on, alone, and even empty a while, but whole again.
Goodbye, proud Mary, goodbye.
So, just under two months, huh? And nothin? God am I terrible.
So here's the thing: I haven't had much to say. This blog sort of functions as my own tiny little publishing house, an open forum for the presentation of the crap that comes "gushing forth" from my brain hole. And that tap has run dry.
Now, this isn't to say that I don't still have opinions about things, or things I'd like to say. What it means is that I haven't had anything to express that I necessarily think I need to foist off upon the masses (Heh, masses. There's some wishful thinking).
I do have a review sitting in the hopper that should get pushed out pretty soon, and if I can think a little more cogently on it, a sort of semi-manifesto/self-criticism that is also in a draft stage. Also I'm working on cleaning up a short story that I'll publish here (for free!) before I start foisting it around for sale.
So, you know, maybe keep an eye out?
So it's been nearly two weeks without content. I am a terrible host.
Another part would be my pronounced procrastination and apathy. I'm not into the rhythm of updating and any excuse not to is enough to allow myself to slip. I'm working on it. I hope I'm getting better.
However! In the next week I should have a new essay up, a review of a ridiculous foodstuff, and other interesting tidbits to share. Heck, maybe I'll even pull in a reader or two.
I can't promise daily content. I know myself too well for that. But there will be content, and I hope you enjoy it with me.
So. Here's the deal. I've been trying to think of something to post about most of the day that wouldn't take too long to throw together, but everything I want to say is on the aspirational side, which therefore kills any progress I'm making on site beautification, which is currently a process of learning two-three new languages and at least two new skills.
So instead I'll post about not posting. Nyah.
Thought I'd try publishing one through the iPhone WordPress app. I like the interface. Minimalist but powerful.
And so it begins, here, under the shade of the canopy on a warm Spring day. Changes are constant, evolution underway, but here and now is where it starts, where the petals unfold and life blooms anew. Take a deep breath. With this first step the journey begins.