Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

On support


Hi all,

The web is a funny thing. And blogs too.

I have taken the time to tell you all how much I appreciate you who are following the site and those who visit on a number of occassions.

But something significant happened where the most recent comment is concerned, and with a couple of couple of comments before. Those comments, combined with the most recent, say that this site is worthwhile.

I have not sought a wider readership, a huge number of visitors or followers. I have felt that should one person visit the site, and listen to, or like, a particular piece of music, or a piece I wrote, that what I did was worthwhile, is worthwhile. I get to share with at least one other person what matters to me. I have the freedom to share on this site what music I like, what my feelings and opinions are. And that is valuable to me. I don’t necessarily know among friends people who will like my music choices. Or like, or wish to read what I write, what my opinions are. People lead busy lives and have their own preoccupations. Besides, they know me, how come he could write anything. Music … let’s no go there.

There are those who boast of how many visitors they have, how many followers they have. There are those who go out and push and push and push to get their figures up. To seek fame or adulation. I don’t seek fame; I have horror of adulation. I am not saying that  I will do what the commentator very kindly suggests I do, to do the work that is required for the site to go viral. I might, we’ll see. I already get some twenty to a hundred emails from this blog a day. Depending on the number of posts I make. I savour every one. Slobber over them. Each one seems precious. Each one a confirmation that this man writing this is not an asshole. That maybe, just maybe, does something worthwhile. I hope so.

You know, I tell my friends; if I feel lonely, just post and people will flock to my door. Never want to mention countries, those in which my visitor live or reside. But I have to mention one. You will understand why. I was telling my wife of how this blog brings people from all over the world. St Kitts, for example.

Where’s St Kitts? she asked. I did not let my manly didacticism leap from out my hanging tongue.

It’s funny you know, when I wrote the political stuff (I occasionally stumble over a piece and wonder: Did I write that? Where did you get the ken to do so?) and had many followers, many of whom are on my Facebook page, and such a dialogue running in the comments column.  One day one of my followers said, “Malcolm, you are a thinker.” I stopped cold dead in my tracks. I made no subsequent posts. It is hard to formulate the words as to why I did this. Maybe some of you can figure it out. Please, please don’t write in the comments columns why that might have been. Don’t want no theses, when Freud has gone.

Naturally, you can always sane, thoughtful comments. The door is open, come on in.

I have never concerned myself with whether the site content, writing or music links, are valuable, are worthwhile. In fact, I have been quite unaware that that might be the case.

So here we are. Let’s see how things go. Where I can, I shall keep you posted. Heavens to Murgatroyd, some of you might even find it interesting. After all each of us has a story to tell, maybe many.

This art thing is truly a funny thing. The creative power, the thrust of the creative force is so powerful, it threatens to overwhelm.

I have noted in previous blogs of how I truly understand why so many artists, musicians, writers, and so on, commit suicide, or are imprisoned within caring, hostile institutions. You have to be a healthy, fully realised person to do this stuff well. But, all’s well, just do your art every day, ten minutes, the whole day, through the night. That way you will stay grounded, will remain real, and know who and what you are.

I know. Concentrate on one thing, some admin for too long, organising files, writing long emails to my two online Art Galleries long explanatory emails justifying myself, why I did this or why I did that. And then turn round, the email overburden more than a pregnant elephant, and strip all that overburden out, and leave only essentials. One or two sentences. That put in the simplest terms what I need or a call to answer what I ask.

Of course, this being the Web, an eternity may pass before you get a reply. Or you may never hear again.

This set of virtual bricks and mortar. Can you see them? I can’t

No we are in a void. Floating like the man in A Space Odessa. Or did I get the wrong film.

That eloquently degradable bone rainbow arcing  into a global warming can made of good old fashioned aluminium.

Ah is not life bliss. Out here in the Outback.

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday 29 July, 2017.

 

 

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Filed under: Arts, history, Media, Memoir, Music, politics, songs, stories

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