Wandery… indecisive… self obsessed… oh well…

There is this spot here in Downtown Nashville that is nice.  I don’t tell people about it because it’s like my own little space.  If I do talk about it I try to make it sound just okay instead of great.  It is a quiet place though they play good music.  The kind of music that makes you just sit down and think… “I like this…”  (Is that a good description?  Hmm…)

The weather has been getting cooler in Nashville this week.  Wearing heavier clothing is going from being only stylish back to practical in a matter of days.  I moved to Nashville in November of 2002 so autumns always feel new to me here.  I had never been to Nashville before I moved here.  I remember riding in a car through the streets and back roads all of the leaves on the trees were yellow and I was listening to such good music in cars of people I just met.

I rode a bus downtown about half an hour ago.  The windows seemed so clear as I looked out at more trees.  They were still a little green.  This is cozy weather.  

I’m having a really nice early afternoon and I wish that it could last longer.  I am off work today so I don’t have much to do but enjoy it.  The way I enjoy my days off is I pack up my bag with a bunch of books and little notebooks and I actually seem to think that I am going to get to all of them.  I think that I’ll have 10 hours someplace quiet when I usually manage about 2 or 3.  I wish that I could always have free time to write.  I would do it all of the time.  I have so many things that I have started and don’t know when I’ll get back to them.  Those things all sit unfinished for months, some for years.  It’s nice to have them around but I wish that I could dedicate all of my time to them.  It’s funny how satisfying it can be and how bluntly the days seem to bring all of the routine stuff like having to go to work and pay for bills.  I really don’t want to be a person who is always thinking about money.  I am though.  I don’t know if you can help that.  I always wish that I could just push it all back and actually enjoy my life.  I think that it’s a little unrealistic at this point but maybe later on I can figure something out.

I watched the movie J.F.K. again the other night.  I was struck by the spectrum of what was shown.  I know that this is known as a controversial film which is obvious when you consider that the subject is the assassination of a president.  Watching it again though it seemed more accurate… or… better researched than I remember noticing before.  I know that it is not an unbiased documentary of the events but Oliver Stone made an excellent movie.  It is entertaining and educational.  It made me want to go back into the history of the real events and read about what happened for myself.  The movie seems to take the reality and digs deep into the cultural and personal implications and what it might mean to America.  It is quite thorough in my opinion.  I did go to youtube the next day to find some videos about those events that happened about 17 years before I was born.

 

On the brain this week (and I think that I’ve already addressed this) has been what journalism means to society.  I don’t know why I have been so clueless to this.  I have always read the newspaper without much consideration of if it was biased or not.  Most of my life I have taken it all as straight fact almost as plain truthful as a dictionary.  This isn’t what the news is though.  And I do believe that there are some places where journalism has a high level of integrity… I’m honestly not much more than a curious spectator here.  I’ve just been thinking about this stuff.  

I do think that having a voice that is listened to publicly is a thing that comes with a lot of responsibility and probably deserves more discernment than I have given in personally.  I have often written for an audience that I have assumed is either shrinking or becoming less and less interested. I don’t know why I have done that, perhaps out of some kind of self preservation.  I think that it has seemed safer to me to have an articulate small voice than an overarching big voice.  I am a writer who doesn’t necessarily want everybody to think the way he thinks.  I don’t think that people who think differently than me are dumb, do you know what I mean?  I usually seem to learn the most from the people that I talk to and I think that the conversations that I have had in my life have shaped me more than anything else.

I have never been much a debater.  Not yet at least.  I don’t argue often. I find myself scooting back and pinned when questions come.  I think that most of my thinking happens when I am alone and safe from any criticisms (good or bad).  So, my most comfortable creating and thinking place is solitude it seems.

I used to read writers and think that the writing life must be one of super closeness to others and peace.  What is funny to me is that when I am not writing, I am normally a pretty quiet person (I guess that I am quiet when I write too, obviously!).  I don’t think that writing makes you closer to people anymore.  Not in a real sense.  Just because people hear your thoughts doesn’t mean that they know you, really.  I’ve found that a lot of people make big and strange assumptions about the kind of person you are.  I think that for a little while I was getting my “emotional” support strictly from the ways that people were reacting to the music until I realized that it was very quickly turning me into a schizophrenic.  I kept wanting to tell strangers, “Don’t talk to me like you know me because you obviously don’t!”  I realized that the reason that they were making all of these strange assumptions was because of the songs that I was writing.  But then I had to remember that the songs, though mostly based in facts were all at least slightly exaggerated.  So the audience was responding truthfully to the somewhat blurred character that I was painting myself to be.  Strange, huh?  It isn’t much fun to make yourself into an image and then have to explain it to people who…

Uh, is this is getting to be tedious and silly?  I might need to hem it in a bit here.  What’s funny about talking about stuff like this is it seems so ridiculous and self-… whatever… and it’s usually the stuff that people say, “Hey, keep talking!” to.

But I’ve gotta’ go do other stuff for now.  Sorry to leave you hanging there…

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