Children Of The Hiatus

The hiatus goes on. I'm sure glad I took it. Being possibly interminable, it's given me tons of time for reflection, memories, and to shoot the breeze with myself. There's been ups and downs, of course. I've not only tasted the blessed sunshine but also the normal bile of life that is so familiar to everyone, especially those who die young.

Certainly I'm not burdened with visitors much anymore. That frees up my senses and lets me catch my breath. The real life visits that I encouraged there for a while with "friends" and "followers" from the blog and the newsletter never amounted to much. It was all just awkward standing around or someone trying to pick my brain, or, worse than that, lust and perversion. To be fair, in the area of perversion it was just the one guy who really went off the beam, Garrett Al, who then spent the night in jail, then came back around ... I just want to forget it. It was a mess.

When I started this whole thing I didn't realize I was a Pied Piper kind of guy with the ability to attract the lonely, the dispossessed, the feeble-minded. I showed up on the internet the same way everyone else did, oblivious to the reach it has. But it didn't take long before I opened my eyes. The way I see it now is that there's the potential for everyone in the world to check in.

So let's say I say something about Paul McCartney, which I'm not ... he might read it and show up at my door demanding satisfaction or seeking an audience with me. Or political leaders, who you definitely can't trust. You know, you say something bad about George W. Bush -- and I know this by personal experience -- he has one of his goons pay you visit, brass knuckles, waterboard and all. He's like a poor man's Bill O'Reilly. Without a doubt Bush is a criminal ... oops.

So I try to steer clear of a lot of specificity when it comes to lowlifes like Bush -- or even making comments on other famous people -- the great, the near-great, the infamous, or the has beens. Not that I wouldn't want to meet them, I guess, but I'm afraid I'd do to them exactly what my own real life visitors, people from this blog and the newsletter, did to me. Stand there, shift from one foot to the other, ask them stupid questions, and generally just act awkward.

Let's take Paul McCartney as an example. I'd love to meet him, sure. But then I think Why? What am I going to say, "Oh, Paul -- may I call you Paul? -- I've enjoyed your work for quite a number of years. I really liked the Beatles, ever since I was a kid." OK, I've said exactly nothing he hasn't heard a million times before. He'd hate me. But just trying to say something that no one else has said wouldn't be the answer either. Because what does he care? He's probably sick of talking about the Beatles and would just rather get away from people (fans) like me. I know the feeling.

The actual solution to all of this is simply not to meet him or anyone else. Except people in the normal course of your day. The check out lady at the store, teachers in college classes, etc. Even then, they don't really want you trailing them around, admiring their work, giving them phony compliments, asking them nosy questions, all that. Who could like that? You have your life to live.

So ... "friends" and "followers" ... I'm enjoying my hiatus ... immensely. And I don't miss you. You followed the wrong Pied Piper this time. Not that there's a right one, since the first one led the children into the river. So it's a little mixed up.

It was my error, I'll admit it. I mistakenly led you to think you could follow me. But I wasn't up for it then, and I'm not up for it now. Consider this your official abandonment notice. You're officially cut off. You must either go back to your homes or proceed on your merry way toward some other mentor, hero, role model, special friend, or involuntary lover.