from a while ago,

before blogspot decided to jam me up…

“Write

what you know about…”

                                                Mark Twain

Sound advice…? At one time, perhaps. The unfortunate part of this epitaph, most people know nothing or of nothing that would interest others—especially readers. We are a society of shallow gatherers and regurgitates, living vicariously through electronic media, sitting on our couch-fat-asses vainly attempting to mimic, absorb the energy of the real, the few doers and adventurers. Fooling ourselves into thinking, we are accomplishing something…

I am not a blues person. I simply have not had to suffer what it takes to be truly “blues.” Yes, I’ve been to Billie Pearl’s, wailed and sung along with B.B King, John Lee Hooker, Janis the Pearl and the greats, gone without meals, ridden the rails, slept in stinking eau d’ nil trash bins out of the rain and pinch of the police, but I haven’t achieved that status of being able to say “I know the blues…” and, besides, I don’t play a guit’box or harmonica worth a damn.

Sipping a little Old No. 7, kicking back and watching segments of PBS’s slick money-drive promos: seeing the true “blues men”. Astounding. Moving. Men walking the walk. And then one has to sit though the technical guitar artistry of Joe Bonammasa—man can that dude wail an axe. His strummin’, goosebump city. But he’s a mimic, he’s got no soul no real blues. Too white- bread, enabled, over-produced, doughboy soft, no real-deal hard-times history behind him, wouldn’t say “shit” if he had a mouthful. Can you dig what I’m sayin’?

So, if you’re going to write authentically, pick something you truly know of. A readership can sniff assumed persona faster than a weasel smells blood. It may be a narrow spectrum of writing themes for the time being. Don’t worry. Go out and live life a little. Go hit the road (even in a WindStream with aunt Margie and the cat if you must.) Take some day labor jobs down on the dock. Hang out in the park with the old checker players and winos (you don’t have to brown-bag it with them) if that’s your thrust in writing. Chillin’ a few hours in the bus or train station will be a note taking eye-opener. A few days in nature’s grandeur swatting mosquitoes and dodging asshole hunters—absorbing what’s left of the special essence of the forest. Observe. Be purposeful. Let essence soak all the way in. Keep lots of journal notes—time’s a comin’ you will use’em. Promise.

   You may find out, your own too-shallow today story, truly isn’t that interesting. But wait. There’s a whole other world out there that needs its story told too. Your personal story and reservoir will grow full with time…

Patience, grasshopper.

Write well, Max tdc