"I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying." - Nelson Mandela (1918-2013)
I'm ill-fitting, and self-absorbed. Upon hearing of Nelson Mandela's death, I posted a picture of myself, and a link to my page on Writers-Network.
Here is what I was thinking: I was trying to illustrate his quote about saints and sinners and perseverance, by putting up a "selfie" that might have sort of worked as a visual, sort of, 'Should I or Shouldn't I?' ... 'Done that (too late!), now what's the next move?'.
And then I linked that photo to my page on Writers-Network, because the apropos quote, attributed to Nelson Mandela, has always been a part of my profile there.
The move backfired, though, when that one guy who's following me intimated that I seemed like an asshole for doing this.
Beyond which, my sincere and timely post on Tumblr -- a humble homage to one of history's great leaders, and a light and inspiration to millions -- could have achieved 'maximum viscosity' (i.e., re-blogging) if I'd only decided to bag the link ... or better yet, do away with my own photo completely.
I did end up choosing to lose the linkage. But my photo's still there ... first of all, because I think it does, in a way, sort of lend itself to the above quote, and this was my intention. Secondly, because it's my damn Tumblr (just like Lil Wayne's cup) and I'll post what I want there!
Generally, I prefer to let my WordSpeak (and my Photos by Jglo) without boring, pretentious exposition. 'I wrote this piece when I was not in a good place' ... 'This next song...'.
"Shut up and sing!" I used to scream, when I'd drop into an open mic. to read my words, or be trapped in a sound booth mixing a gig, and some insecure windbag would get up before me. 'And then my dog suggested, "Eat the bone!"...my dog is my muse. Why, I'm just a vessel. But I can't do an English accent...'
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I used to scream ... as the audience assembled would invariably chuckle in indulgent, embarrassed anticipation at what the insecure windbag might utter next ...
Now the internet screen has become the stage ... but other than this, there is little that's changed. I still become hysterical when I visit most blogs and read all of the reasons and rhymes for each posting; the gestation behind each creation, the excuses for what, why and how each exists.
I BECOME HYSTERICAL with explanations which have themselves no need for existing, and only serve to pad the word count (or cleverly populate search results). Rather than letting the words, or the various images, speak -- and rather than allowing me to absorb them subjectively -- there are zillions of "creators" all telling me what, why and how I should feel, follow, "favorite" or "like".
Of course, zillions respond to this becoming-less-and-less-subtle steerage, and the "blogosphere" gets born and is an ever indulgent, happy place ... I become hysterical!!
Though all things considered, I am happy to be weighing in. I will steadfastly be keeping your two cents to yourself ... but I know you'll continue to 'stumbleupon' sundry Random Poetix and other works, and Wor(d)s in Progress, by Jeff Glovsky, and take what you may from them ... without any boring, pretentious exposition.
I just wanted to take this moment here, to elucidate my self-absorption.
Thank you very much. Thanks for reading.
Good night!!!
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| "All of Me", ©Jeff Glovsky |
