Still write it down, it might be read.
Nothing’s better left unsaid.

Keith Reid, some time in the 60’s

Used to listen to those lines from within In Held Twas In I by Procul Harum. On the turntable. In high school.

Loved the metered rhyming, but could never cotton to the assertion itself. In truth, I’ve spent much more time regretting saying things I should have swallowed than wishing I had said them. My father assisted with the tempering of my tongue when he poetically and incisively stated:

Timbo, in the theater of your own mind, those thoughts are playing to sold out shows. But on the streets of reality, you can’t fetch face value for the tickets.

James Walter Sassen, some time in the 80’s

But in the hopes that with typing (and by that I primarily am referring to the delete key and CTRL-Z combo) comes tempering, I am going to author a blog. More holistically, I hope the pace of writing helps with the process of reflection and refinement such that the results are at least worth face value. There will certainly be some paper wads around the waste basket, but in truth their crumpling is a benefaction to the end product and those who are kind enough to read it.

I am grateful to those who have, with greater insistence of late, encouraged me to return to writing. And, most of all, I welcome your responses and insights, which will surely propel the end result past what my poor pen could have imagined.

Peace,