Wow. It's been over a year since my last post. It's not that I wouldn't prefer a more literary life. I would. But until I finish the great American novel, I don't see that happening. And then I still don't see that happening.
So anyway, prioritizing means the blog gets shoved by the wayside most of the time. When I do have good ideas or when I run across poems I'd like to think about a bit in prose, I'm usually too tired too worry about it. But lately I've been asked by North American Review blog to blog a bit for them, which was a cool, thoughtful, and appreciated offer. And yesterday for Valentine's Day my wife gave me a cool leather-bound journal
So with the NAR asking me to write a "The Art of Ecstasy" for their site and with my wife asking me to persistently keep a record of haiku, returning to the blog seemed a natural addition. But since I don't really care to invest the time to blather on about poetry, I think instead I'm going to periodically post some music. Some new, some old. Some covers, some originals. And of course I'll embed YouTube.
Now I do have some philosophical problems with this. I really hate most of the stuff on YouTube and much of what such a site entails. I mean honestly--most of what anyone needs to know about human existence can be gleaned from the annals of scatalogy past, present, and future. Very little needs to exist ad infinitum per the multitude of hard drives on which the internet survives. I do like all the education YouTube offers, but seriously--most of us having nothing to say or show. It's not true that everyone has a voice and that it should be heard. I don't exclude myself from this predicament.
But as a poet and a musician I am foremost an exhibitionist (aren't we all?). And so I find myself occasionally posting my foolishness online: YouTube, a blog, the infrequent and quotidian Facebook post (I fear how much energy is wasted in its various forms to house Facebook posts until eternity).
And with that being said, I intend to update "Present Everywhere" with regularity again, not with highfalutin pomp about poetry, but with semi-decent music, mine and otherwise.