a new pond

I have not been working hard on Flow lately.

The primary reason for this is I've been working with a company called Aethem, and among other things, I am now a magazine editor. That all sounds cool on its face, but then the reality of what you're doing and hope to accomplish hits you in the head, and the next thing you know all of your time is going out of the window at an astronomically high rate of speed.

I'm not even that good at math.

Couple this with a recent diploma in Journalism, and then it becomes a wise use of your education. Who would have known?

Now I'm writing everywhere and having to investigate, study, and process to pull all of it off.

I wear more than one hat in this company, so coupled with a few good acquaintances, this is going to be a challenge. It's also going to be a very good thing once it takes flight.

Something about the startup has always grasped me tightly since the 1990s and hasn't let go. I live for startups, I love the startups.

Today's media spectrum is an enigmatic creature to get a mental handle on. Back in the older days, I had the vision in my mind of being the cool, hip beat poet, and living the lifestyle only realized by the SoHo elitists. It didn't quite go that far, but I now have a new toolbox of titles to work with and carry out.

Writing is becoming a real thing now. Sometimes your dream of how you desire to live life is, in fact, the very monster under your bed that you've been hiding from, sometimes for years on end.

Another pitfall of having dreams is the precision with which they intersect into your legacy. You know, that thing that's leftover like a grieving mistress when you die. It might make a lot of noise on your way out, or it will be quiet as a church mouse when everyone else is watching.

Perhaps now would be a good time to point out the position I have arrived at; I have to my examination failed to put out good work whilst directly attached to a major religion. This could be a biased assumption, or it may also be an educated statement. I am not clear which at the moment, all that I do know is that when there was an "us" and a "them", the conflict always seemed to catch and carry me like a trout on the end of a fishing line.

Can you relate to a point in your life where the potential appeared to flow, but instead of being with the current, you sank to the bottom instead, out of control?

Purpose provides its fuel, and at times contains its blast. Now the purpose is to explore. To do the thing I was desirous to do some quarter-century ago. I still feel the same age. I know that I'm not, so it is prudent to understand and not play like one is still that youthful. Not in public, anyway.

Perhaps these positions will be detailed in future books one day, but currently, I feel no attachment to my former faith. The people involved were every bit as unattached to me. There is a point when you discover you're trying too hard to fit in, even with a formal title granted from a seminary. The only logical decision is to cut bait if I can use another fishing reference. I might as well, we're all for the most part locked in place with the coronavirus thing going on.

We ain't going anywhere for a while if we're smart.

Carpal tunnel syndrome is the other ugly suitor at the proverbial bar of literary function that seems to continually drop bad lines and stroke me where it hurts. CTS is a bad date no matter how you cut the cake. I think I should give her the wrong number. I know a few others she should be calling instead of me.

We should take this time to properly connect to the world around us, and possibly this will stave off the cabin fever rampaging the news circuits so much lately.

For myself, the world is waiting to be opened like a forbidden book, nature ripe for my processing and understanding. Engaging with a philosophy directly opposed to natural processes as we see in the Judeo-Christian realm makes little sense.

I realize I spent a great deal of time in those constructs, have a cognitive understanding of what was lost in that venture, but I also have a decent recognition of what is gained by the misstep. If I gained what I feel I've gained, then I can't classify it as wasted. The time was simply spent in the wrong room of the mansion.

I am thankful for this new venture, and I think it will be a good thing for those who bless me by reading my work. And to all of you, I hope to have more for you to chew on soon.