Splintered Blog 1: Everything that isn't eventual is inevitable

       Life. Am I right?

     Topsy-turvy, twisting, intractable, unpredictable, disorienting, contradictory—it’s a helluva thing. And I oughtta know. As a mostly living organism I’ve had plenty of time to consider the prismatic nature of my corporeal reality. Also, by extension, my tenuous relationship with the causal nature of life has imprinted itself on a significant number of my creative works. Sometimes it just happens that way.

       Rapidly siphoning temporal increments and exclamation points; chasms and corridors that ultimately lead to nowhere…one thing we can be certain of is that certainty is an illusion. Bolting doorways is no sure way of turning back phantoms. I guess that’s two things. How about one more: seeming to be is not the same as being to seem (the clauses are reversed).

       Anyhoo, all of this may sound like a lot of nothing; dubious waffle and impertinent word play. Yes, of course. Dispersing such an irreverent stream of disjointed thoughts is not unlike flushing a leaky commode. Make of that what you will or will not. At this point my tangent has taken a tangent and may spew another unexpectedly. In that case making any kind of salient observation may prove challenging.

       You may ask yourself: is this how every one of this buffoon’s blogs will sound? My answer to your private thoughts: “Yes, I’m afraid so.” One thing I can guarantee: these little forays into verbal absurdity may not be frequent but they will almost certainly be crap.

       Now, getting back to my thesis—yes, there was a point to this after all; blame the damn tangents for leading me astray. Despite a few blatantly obliquitous displays of cerebral flaccidity I did begin with a theme, namely inevitability (it’s kind of on the tin); something that readers of my poetry have had the misfortune to endure. Morbidity may be one guise but surely is not the only one. And each venture into the topic begins from a different angle, triggered by a myriad of stimulus.

       To be clear (for a change): everything that happens, every living thing and event, every triumph and tragedy has a destination. Every winding road, ultimately, is a dead-end street. Every churning river reaches an ocean. Every fall from a great height finds fruition in asphalt. Every attempt to undo entropy only accelerates the process and results in the frozen remnants of molecular decoherence. Need I go on?

       This venture into the digital domain falls into that category. Somehow, some way it was meant to find fruition. Or not. But either option, once realized, was bound to happen all along. Otherwise nothing at all would happen and this entire discussion would be moot. Maybe it’s moot anyway; that would make more sense than the random totality and untethered vagaries of my disjointed literary spew. But whatever is bound to transpire is also doomed to do so.

       You know what? I think I’ll contradict myself, not that contradictions won’t become a regular theme in this particular space but there’s a first time for everything (as well as a final: check the tin).

       Certainty isn’t an illusion, it’s reality.

       Reality is the illusion.

       And uncertainty is merely a sense of ambivalence toward conclusions and our inability to see the ocean for the river.

       Until next time…