Blog as Journal

No blog revival lasts. It’s always a moment’s inspiration. A failed reboot. An attempt at a reconciliation between someone and their muse to revive a relationship that perished for a proper reason. As all things do, right or wrong. Everything dies for the right reason.

So I’m not going to revive The Chicory blog, which I still and likely always will consider my greatest creation (mostly because, as selfish as it was, it was the most unselfish thing I ever did). It’s rather an expansion of an aspect of The Chicory I entirely overlooked while I was blogging after Katrina, blog as journal, the chronicling of my life at the time. This,this, this, this and this.

I do what’s in front of my face these days. In doing so, I lose a lot of what is behind me and find what’s ahead so uncertain that, when not terrified of it, I don’t think about it at all. And I am hoping that by journaling here, I can reconcile my future self (and the past self my present one will become) with these posts.

Of course as I look back there won’t be any moments of clarity but perhaps maybe just some intimacy with who I was. Probably some scorn of course. That’s what we do to ourselves (and our relationships) and it’s not dishonest. It’s necessary to dismantle the past sometimes. This will hopefully leave a foundation instead of ruins.

What’s most important is that few thoughts are constant. All things, thought especially, are abstract and weave in and out of their relevance and importance to the self. So I must, as I look back, realize that.

That’s the extent of the structure I am going to give myself. Often the reasons for the blogs don’t become the blogs themselves. See Library Chronicles which doesn’t really chronicle the library much.

I am going to open the browser and write. Because, like Dorothy Parker, “I hate writing. I love having written.” There will certainly be art, sermons, prose and poetry of course. Fuck, I don’t know. This may be the only new post. It may be like so many of the other blog revivals, or exercising, or eating write or spending more time with loved ones, the quiet desperation of Americans these days where we have so much motivation but so little energy and time. I hope not. But I am going to recognize that possibility right here and now, so it can become a “thing.”

Maybe I’ll start with something tonight.

This took 45 minutes. No wonder I stopped the first time.