The Precipice (from The Classic Crime’s “Phoenix”)

Expression is hard. I’ve been told that I’ve got a knack with words, but it’s not like they come easy. If you ever find a blog post of mine that speaks to you, know that it likely came with anguish and regret, tears and pain, suffering and toil.

It’s like there is something inside of me that’s itching to get out, except the exit sign is burnt out, and whatever it is wanders around, screaming inside with only an echo for company.

It’s not easy putting yourself out there, and I suspect that it’s even harder doing it well.

You might be surprised at how many posts go unpublished. I’ve got a draft folder that would make you blush, and no, you may not see them… yet.

They’re not ready.

Or maybe I’m not ready.

Words are hard enough. Many have experienced a great deal of success using music as a means to illuminate that internal exit sign, pointing the way out for whatever madness they’ve got inside of them.

precipice-pianoReally and truly, I do not have that gift. Words are enough. They must be, and yet they feel too often insufficient.

There are days that I wish I could couple these empty words with music. Maybe then instead of despondent railings, I could write a legitimately sad song.

Emotions sound better when set to music, don’t you think? Maybe that’s why this series of posts has resonated so well with me, whether you like them or not. In case you forgot, I don’t blog for you as much as for myself.

Don’t misunderstand me though. I’m desperate for your approval. But whether I get it or not, I’ve got to press on.

Adding a .com to my name was easy. You can .com yourself for about $15 in as many minutes. But it comes with such a weight that I’m not sure I’d recommend it to anyone, and yet it brings such a freedom that I wish you’d all do it.

We all like to hide ourselves in various ways. Most don’t like to cry in front of people, for example. We hold it all together for the sake of our audience. It’s silly to me, but it’s protective. I’ve purposed to be as honest as possible here, and to put myself out there farther than I’m comfortable with, and I hope that it helps you. If I have to cut my fingertips off just to bleed out a post, that is what’s going to happen. Maybe only six of you will see it, but of those six, maybe one of you really needs it.

Glamorous, right? Not so much.

Admittedly, those single digits bother me. No one likes to work and toil on something, only to see it fall flat on its face. Discouragement doesn’t come close to describing the feeling. Maybe if I had a violin…

I’m still not sure that it would help.

Perspective is precious.

There is much to be gained from looking back on what you’ve done.

This blog has taken me places that I didn’t want to go, and has helped me get through others that I really didn’t want to go. If you’ve been with me for a while, you know that this blog was started as a place to grieve the death of my dad. He was to06-1-precipiceo young to die, and I was too young to lose him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took to poetry, lousy as it was. It was something that I knew, and it helped.

You were there for all of it. Thanks for the memories. The six people that have faithfully been following this blog are six of my favorites (although I suspect one of you probably hates me and likes to see me lose it once in a while…).

Perspective is brutal.

Hindsight isn’t always great, though. Hindsight draws me to my successes more than my failures, and I lose sight of what matters most.

Any time I think of the good times on the blog, my mind goes to the time that I went viral. I had a post that got shared all over social media, was picked up by some bloggers who know success that I only dream about, and was quoted, retweeted, and whatever other hip things happen to viral posts.

Ultimately, it wasn’t a huge deal. As of this writing, it has been viewed 359 times, which is a lot more than six.

Three-hundred fifty-nine is not a lot, though. But it’s sixty times what I’m used to. And when I look at all of it, and what I’ve achieved, what I’ve missed, and where I’ve just pressed on through this whole mess of me, I know that my accomplishments are small. I can stack them just as high as they’ll go and take that flying leap, and it makes for an embarrassing sort of jump.


Am I wasting my time?

Even if I am, I’m going to keep wasting my time. Like I said, I’m desperate for your approval, but whether I get it or not, this is what I have to do.

I hope you enjoy your visit here, but more importantly, I hope that you can cast off whatever keeps you quiet, hidden, and withdrawn. Just like me, you’ve got something inside of you that is desperate to get out. May you find your exit, however public or private it may be. You were created for far more than silence, for blending in, for just getting by.

That was a single post in a series, celebrating individual songs from one of my favorite bands, The Classic Crime, and their album “Phoenix” (available here). It is my hope that whether you like the band or not, there will be something in the posts that will resonate with you.

I don’t intend to go through all 13 tracks, but I’ll be doing several of them. Among other things, these posts express my anticipation for their next album, scheduled for release in early 2017. I’m probably more excited than a grown man should be for something like this, but I’m okay with that.


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