If you dismiss all expectation, this will be painless.  I’ve existed for so long (as best I could) in form…not fakery, mind you, but appropriateness (I’m not sure if that is a word, and I don’t care, remember?)  Tact.  And I can appreciate tact.  I am fond of professionalism, too.  Common courtesy, being gracious, proper, P.C., if you will.

However, there is enjoyment to be had in slipping out of the suit and heels to keep it real.  Direct. Straight-up and to the point communication and articulation.  Say what you really want to say how you want to.  Dishing it as it comes.

Ahh…

I believe that we all can appreciate being able to do so, and when it comes from a place of truth, then I think that we all can benefit from being on the receiving end.

That said, this is for me.  No one else.  A single soul might not ever happen across this alphabet soup of mine.  But if they do, they are sure to find me, a few of my contradictions, quite a few of my opinions, a shred of arrogance, a little bit of insecurity and a lot of blind confidence, but mostly my rantings expressed with great liberty, in this, my own Diary of a Mad Writer.

The reader bored enough with life to read more than a couple lines of my verse and blessed enough to be led by the Heavens to do so, is sure to pair pieces of my personal status, ascribed and achieved, and ‘place my face’ so-to-speak.  However, these will not be packaged for you by me so that you can tuck me away neatly in the boxes of your mental.  Nope.  I’d rather be cast into the junk drawers of your psyche’.

I think the best part about a description in a good book is that each reader’s imagination gets to put together the pieces of what the author reveals to construct a picture in their own mind.  And it is likely that each picture imagined is different.

I don’t care for games, and I’m not fashioning with mystery, popular ambiguity, or blurred lines…just choosing not to limit you or me.

#imwrite