Redmarketer

July 29, 2008

Uh Oh.

Filed under: Blog Explanations, Random — Robert John Ed @ 11:23 pm

It seems I’ve been breaking the not writing about marketing or business thing a lot.  Not sure what to make of that, but I’m pretty sure it is a result of working non stop on my company website and lounging.  An outlet perchance, persay, perhap?

Once a long time ago I had a blog on Myspace.  It was quite a pile.  I wrote a lot of creative free thought and meandering existential dramatized bullshit.  Bullshit may be a bit strong, but it was essentially an emo blog.  I kept it on the down low as well, because writing like that makes for vulnerability.  But a lot of stuff I wrote there was my better output in terms of creative writing.  Myspace sucks though.  So I deleted my account and built a website instead.

As I sit here waiting for the Twins game to start, I remembered a post on Bob Dylan that I wanted to go back and read.  AND I CAN’T FIND IT.  It is supposed to be saved in a large document on my computer, or flash drive or something.  I can’t find any of the writing I did on that emo blog anywhere.  This is very bad news.  That means I just lost about 18 months worth of creative writing, most of which was abstract thoughts, poetic conjecture and other meaningless drivel.  But it was my meaningless drivel.  :-/  Word to the wise, don’t be an idiot like me.

And I can’t go back.  I won’t start using this medium for that kind of writing, in fact, I don’t think I’ll go back to that kind of writing much at all.  The last three years of my life were incredible, and I was distraught through some of it.  Getting back those pieces and feelings is basically impossible.  SHIT!  Writing that in caps always makes me smile.  :-)  Cest la vie magnifique.

The picture?  A painting of Freewheelin’ in my living room.  That is what got me started on this whole tangent.  The premise coming from a post in the emo blog.  So I’ll paraphrase:

Dylan and his songs are like memoirs of my life written to me in real time.  One can only stare toward an elated horizon with an absolute inability to describe the beauty unfolding day after day, year after year.

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