Tipped from pot luck, it seems you were, possibly from pot ‘bad luck’, as falling hitherward from high, I see you are. A fleeting descent. Use its moment to look down and meet the mire that waits to greet you. Feel its momentum slam you down—slap you into the slop. A silted, muddied, water’s edge bescrawled with the swirls, curls and twists of a wet stick. One such once held by an aspirant artisan. Those scrawls are script; the inaugural writings of this maundering blog. Plonked purposely here in the unexplored slime-some backend of the web’s nowhere and intended to be paid no mind in the hardest currency of all—pure ignorance. Leave space to mull a little though, let that ignorance be a shade impure; permit yourself a second’s thought for a second thought. Scratch your chin, make ‘hmmm’ sound and furrow a frown over this being a flukey or ill-fated encounter.?.?. No, the notion—silly? Then just dismiss it, for scratching invokes further itching and confusion comes from uncomfortable thinking.
Look about instead.
Behind: a rainforest that expands to forever with flora overgrown and fauna unknown; roots that’ll trip, and creepy crawling creatures that’ll nip. Ahead: a waterway, a seemingly more accessible gateway/getaway that invites passage; a look of calm that lulls and an undercurrent that pulls. Still, it’s chance that dropped you here, and choice that can take you on your way. Unstick yourself from your soft clay crater Dear Reader and make your decision. This habitat thereafter will revert to being remote, shrugging its shoulders and declaring quietly forevermore that: it always Intended to be frequented extremely infrequently by only the dedicated whim-rider of the random and barely any other human soul; save for its returning author; that stick swirling-scrawler, that aspirant artisan of a man.
That’ll be me.
I’ll raise my arm while you raise an eyebrow. I’m a devotee and dabbler in the art of wordplay, ‘word-smithery’ and calculated codswallop—yes calculated codswallop I’ll call it; inwardly enthusiastic but outwardly cowardly. A reluctancy to bare this interest see. Here, in a place most don’t condone, I can don a diaphanous veil of anonymity; no shrouding cloak nor dirksome dagger, just the true me, with a modicum of mystery. Here to embrace my enthusiasm, have some antics with semantics, be more blatant with what’s latent and reel out lines of long-winded twittery—sheesh, this blather could be a rap with the last phoneme being an ‘iː’ (psst, it’s quite soberly pronounced ‘ee’). Exasperation creeping in here re. the twittering being unwittingly the last thing I want it to be! Obscuring meaning with complexity. Dr. Suess and ally Eminem now I’m considering are invading me.
Not quite a wrap yet either. There’s more: the river yonder is beckoning, willing me to wander. It has me elect to again abandon the stick in the mud—to venture on. But first: logs and vine to collect, some construction to be done, a craft to be made from plans unlaid and boarded with a cargo of myself and many words as yet uncapped and unconveyed. Later the release; not into mud this time but more formally done, verbiage to be vented to this vessel thereon through the rod and beak of my favourite blue chisel tipped water-based marker. To faux-intelligently unintelligibly un-indelibly mark this waterborne whiteboard all fresh and ad-hoc like, an easy easel, a convenient contrivance for this unadulterated over-alliterated blog. On it I’ll confess and profess fully in letters sick finches high to none and sundry that I’m proud to pretentiously engage in such equivocal folly, such over-refined unpithy piffle. This anonymous, largely un-promoted wordpress space shall give freedom and a measure of tropical air and mystical ether to my abstruse imaginings.
All expressed in never to be underestimated overkill by the way, and by way of words of course.
And that course shall hold no rat race, be gone ‘water rats’ I command, burrow into some other banks—have tea with the moles and the voles. And that course shall be looked upon by no deriding stern-eyed spectator, be gone ‘youse’ of derisive disdain I instruct—go frown at some other’s muddled flapdoodle. And the disinterested too: be they family, friends, cohorts, colleagues or strangers. I apologise but please shy from this domain, t’will appear to be but a makeshift muddy morass of words and whiteboard doodlings to you I’m sure. I insist, waste no time nor space to muse over its abstraction.
For those masochists that remain: Welcome, maybe I’ve mildly amused you. This is the place I’ll place further meandering meanderings, items of this ilk, here in these pages, in the forthcoming months—and more. The peeling-barked logs of my logins here shall be lashed together and launched from this jungle’s word-etched mud-skirt as that so meticulously unplanned yet sturdy raft. An expedition embarked upon with a flask of coffee, my blue dauber and its whiteboard. But no sail nor paddle for myself and twaddle you’ll notice; there’s no notion of intentional navigation. On-board the craft, the rules are just as relaxed, giving realm back to the aforementioned random. The expedition’s chief ambition; being an itinary-less urge to be drawn along with, what I deem, my thought-stream’s slow philandering flow. Yes a lazy pace to drift this lazy watercourse. At a clip that’ll afford me a leisurely tinker with its convolutions as it swells to the fattest, flattest river. All the while wending its ever-widening, ever-winding way down from mind, to hand, to pen, to paper—then keyboard transcribed word.