I read an interesting article about how the whole blogging phenomenon is about people engaging in conversation. More like a monologue than a dialogue it would seem to me. I liken this blogging experiment more to a pulse check – is my heart pumping red blood and is that oxygen coming through my parted lips or artificial life support? It’s up and down the road of life – heart swelling with joie de vivre one minute, and in the next shutting all its trap doors and preparing for the storm, always dynamic, pumping red while sifting through black and whites of images, memories, actions, extra sensory perceptions, meaning, and raw desire.
Is the very air that I breathe able to filter out what is toxic from what is not? – can my brain adapt to the new with all that it has witnessed? – can my soul forgive the past? embrace the now? hope for the future? – my eyes see, my body desires, my lips taste, my skin feels, my heart yearns, my ears are deaf, while my nose smells that scent, the one that pulls me closer and closer and closer till I’m teetering on the brink – is the second pancake also lumpy? – what about the third? – how many lumpy pancakes? Would I recognize a smooth one if I had one put right in front of me?
Who will catch me when I fall?