One Too Many Mornings.

I started blogging nearly three years ago, and in all that time I never went more than a day without making a post – and even then, only rarely. Well, it’s now been four days, and I feel that there are people out in the ether who’re entitled to an explanation. Whether or not the word ‘entitled’ is wholly appropriate, I don’t know and I don’t care; it just seems that way.

The fact is that, as always with me, the reasons are subtle, deep, many-faceted, complex and utterly tedious, so I won’t bother to go into detail. Suffice it to say that things are not good in the JJ mind at the moment. Things are not good in The Shire at the moment, either, and The Shire is about the only means I have of identifying myself these days. It’s a long way short of enough, but it’s all I’ve got and so it matters. In brief, things aren’t good, and when things aren’t good I have a habit of retiring to a safe distance where people can’t reach me. I like giving sympathy, you see, but I hate receiving it. It makes me feel inadequate.

I did think of giving up the blogging habit altogether this time, but I don’t suppose I will. When I think of all the things I used to like doing but are no longer available, the one thing I have left is writing, and what would I write but the blog? How else would I play the questioning fool, or rant about the crap we have running western society, or attach more gravitas to little things than they deserve? So I expect I’ll continue – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day and for the rest of my life. Ah, Philadelphia…

And to demonstrate my good intentions, I thought I’d post two and a half minutes of vintage Bob Dylan. For a start, it reminds me of the days when opportunity was a virgin slate. This song was one of my repertoire in my minstrelling days with the gang – when little Lyn Pedley liked to carry my guitar around, slung across her back, because she thought it made her look cool. Dear Lyn was not quite the first woman I disappointed, and there were a lot more to come. We were only eighteen, bless us, and life was a lot simpler back then. But mainly it’s because I feel it should be an allegory for something. Exactly what, I don’t know.

And to those who kept checking in, sincere thanks.