I’ve never imagined myself a writer, nor a idealist. I’ve founds on the creative side mostly visual and physical success. Business in the craft of acting, motions, juggling the simplest forms of scene stealing short of just chewing gum. But alas no actor am I, but in the long run of life, and I lay claim here, with a chuckle. Myself finds the craft of directing thru line, texture or form, includes everyday life, indeed. The entrance of my home directs one towards a sitting area of entertainment or a ‘den’, of comfort and view of the out of doors. Hence I claim on the form of life, indeed follows the function and necessity.
Looking forward, if you will?? I’ve had a great blog idea or two and find no, absolutely no compelling reason or inspiration to proceed. I feel not a lazy streak yet I do feel the need to be compelled, compelled by that great big mysterious force of nature or unature if there is such a word. A reason to ‘bevel’ in a justification beyond filling up the page with written word, not a cause nor justification. Me? I look for some universal need within me life to apply the ‘pen to paper’.
A city of east Georgia in the USA, has been the center of a notable writer from this state. If my memory serves me correctly he was originally from south of Atlanta, Georgia near Moreland, where more than one author of note was born and raised. The writer in my thoughts wrote of the last vestiges of indentured servitude in this state, of the sharecropper who could not give up his and his family’s life and the times and attitudes which bound these men and there families to the same cycle of life their fathers and fathers before them were bounds as chattel.
Oh how spring has risen here in me hometown a month early and no real winter upon us here, I would bear to say the weather has been cool, and cold, and even to chance we have been frozen at times of early mornings, but and but again there has been no seasonal waves of deep freeze and the timely percipient to aggravate transportation in the metro area. The most gorgeous of flowering plants, of Asian origin her in Georgia, the Azalea have bloomed in a most spastic way and continue to do so me thinks until April, while this is the seasonal time for the Japanese Magnolia, the arid blooming blossoms floating above the ground imitating pale lanterns of the foreground.
Rain on the way and the heavens have been generous this year around, with all the homes across the street from me finally removed, my view in the neighborhood has changed to being the front door of in-town Alpharetta, Georgia. Till later I’ll adjust and in-town will do the same. Guess I could always put up a sign and open a hotdog stand.