Faire weather...
...or is it fowl? -either way it remains the same. Rain, rain, rain and more rain. There is a saying here that runs something like this: Is the fair this week? (or: is it August?) Well, it must be raining. (Far better than the smoke of the previous summer.)
A year in the interior of Alaska. A year of great change. That this has become "home" in all senses of the word is a wonder to me. I don't pine for Orlando or miss the heat one bit. I like it here. The very feel of the place so different from what I've known before...
There is, of course, the issue of "staying in touch" with family and friends -a source of no small concern to me for I am one of those poor non-writing/calling bastards that frustrates the heck out of those who communicate regularly. The thoughtful folks of the world. (am I admitting to being reclusive in some manner? Introverted? I suppose so.) That it is often interpreted as uncaring, this solitude, weighs upon me. Moves me uncomfortably to make a connect.
This journal is one way I try to reach out. I set words here for any to see and speak to what comes to mind. I do not follow a schedule nor have any agenda (which suits me) other than trying to be honest when I write and share something of myself through my art. I do hope others read this and give me feedback (as communication is a give and take proposition) ...though I do not expect an echo for each and every call into the void.
A year in the interior of Alaska. A year of great change. That this has become "home" in all senses of the word is a wonder to me. I don't pine for Orlando or miss the heat one bit. I like it here. The very feel of the place so different from what I've known before...
There is, of course, the issue of "staying in touch" with family and friends -a source of no small concern to me for I am one of those poor non-writing/calling bastards that frustrates the heck out of those who communicate regularly. The thoughtful folks of the world. (am I admitting to being reclusive in some manner? Introverted? I suppose so.) That it is often interpreted as uncaring, this solitude, weighs upon me. Moves me uncomfortably to make a connect.
This journal is one way I try to reach out. I set words here for any to see and speak to what comes to mind. I do not follow a schedule nor have any agenda (which suits me) other than trying to be honest when I write and share something of myself through my art. I do hope others read this and give me feedback (as communication is a give and take proposition) ...though I do not expect an echo for each and every call into the void.