"Once, when I was young,
Ev'ryone called me gifted
And words flowed simply.
Now I have to work,
Each new word a paradox.
What gift then, is this?"
'93
So... Who am I?
Let me get back to you on that. Apparently, 50 or so years haven't quite been enough to get the complete story. I do know that the person I believed I was, for many years, turned out to be someone else, who simply vanished one day like a chalk drawing on the walkway after the rain. Yes, the general shape is still there, but most of the content...
Sort of like the avatar, the outlines seems intact, but the features are quite fuzzy.
Nonetheless, the person that I always was - the writer - is still quite alive and strong, and wants to know why it's taken so long to get the words out to the world.
So here I am, a little fuzzy, but willing to give it a shot.
Certainly there's enough content from the past to fill a library, but, as a student once said in a song, "What have you done for me lately?" Ah, that remains to be seen. My output has always been unpredictable - years of nothing and then several hundred pages in a few months - so I can't say what the future holds.
In the meantime, enjoy the detritus that's shaken loose from my head. It's an interesting place to be - for awhile, anyway.
The curator, however, thinks otherwise.
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