I Was Going To Write Something…


But I really don’t know what I want to write.

There was a time in my life where I could write for hours on end. Granted, I edited. A lot. But I could do it.

Now I feel like it is a struggle to string words together on a page: real or virtual. Surely, I can put them down on a page, but to string them together in a coherent manner in way that conveys whatever it is I am trying to convey.

What was I trying to convey again? See, that’s the other problem: as soon as I try to take the idea out of my mind and put it into a form that others can see, the idea is gone.

Maybe in the dead of night, I can put a few words together on this blog app thingie that a nice chap from app.net put together. Maybe it will make some sort of sense.

Maybe I’ve spent too much time on Twitter and Facebook, but I actually find character limits to be a useful thing. I can strip away all the nonsense and get to the point. Sometimes it takes a while to craft those 140 characters–255 characters on app.net–but I can usually do it.

Whereas a blog post like this has no limit. Well, I see a character count at the bottom of this blog-app.net thingie I am using to compose this blog, so maybe I can’t prattle on forever. But still, there’s a huge difference between 140 characters and 5000.

Maybe this is why I’ve started podcasting. I know my word choice is not perfect. Some cleanup can be done with editing, but I can’t obsess over an audio waveform the same way I can obsess over words on a page.

The end result: nearly 70 episodes (to date), one per day. None of them perfect, but they get the ideas across and out there in a way I’ve always wanted to: on the radio.

Well, it’s not terrestrial radio, which I did briefly in 1997, but it’s Internet radio. My podcast does appear on the No Agenda Stream. In addition to the fact you can listen to it on phoneboyspeaks.phoneboy.com, subscribe in iTunes, etc.

So maybe it’s not so bad. I can still communicate. I can still participate in the conversation going on in the world.

But sometimes, it’s nice to not have to communicate. To not be putting ideas into the world. To just listen. Sometimes to others ideas. Sometimes to my inner dialogue. Sometimes, to silence.

That said, I wish I were heard sometimes. Truly heard. Because if I’m not being heard and making an impact on the world around me, why am I bothering to communicate with you all.

I’m very tired. I am finishing this at 2am. I hope it will make sense what I’m trying to say.


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