When I was a kid my mom and I would pretend a thing. There was only her and I so our world was a large family. I had brothers and sisters in that world. We got into trouble and had crazy adventures. It was all ok in our minds though. We created this world and then populated it with family. It was fun and perhaps anthropological and sociological at the same time. We created a tribe that were so real then.
If we went on a trip they went with us. Sometimes someone else drove the car besides my mom. We had times together of flight and fancy. Moments of joy and sorrow and adventure and travel. There was no place we could not go and getting there was easy. We could beat the speed of light and reach some mysterious destination in the blink of an eye or nod of the head.
Perhaps I knew then I would do anthropology and archeology for years. As my mentor was fond of saying later,
archeology is the mind wielding a trowel
And it was. We could find places hardly explored and people never seen. We could go and find but then it would end after the drive.
Yet, I would still say another day,
And off we’d go.
I’ve wondered after 20 years writing one of these things called a blog if it was pretend. I believed at one time we had the best minds creating content. Sometimes linking to my content. It was a wonderful pretense. A world of bloggers creating only for their desire to sprinkle words in a virtual garden of delights. But some years ago pretend ended. And this worse than reality world settled in with blogging. Now words created for the mere joy have become passé. We have demoted our wonderful creators to catalogues.
If I were to ask my mom,
let’s pretend we are bloggers
I’m afraid we would fail. For certainly we have lost the imaginary worlds of words and replaced it with ugly affiliate links and ads. Now the lifestyle and travel bloggers spout self serving platitudes and the inane lists of things.
So yes I am tired of the current crop of pretenders. My mom would shake her head and maybe tell me,
wrong world son. We belong one over
And how much less does it all have to become until we can’t find the thread of it with google ads and subsidized posts and affiliate links? I don’t know.
That’s why I’m here. So let’s pretend that this is a small iota of a once world and you enjoy content and the words next to each other.
I’ll go ahead and do my part. You can read backwards or forwards here. It’s all words on Write.As. Beautiful words all lined up on each other. Now who is pretending? This is my world. Read or not it don’t fucking matter. I don’t write for you to read or to comment or like. I write for my own savage joy to say whatever the F I wanna say.
Quick! Click the back arrow. It’s safe there. Hahaha 😂.