Several folks have reached out to me regarding sharing the Confessions post. While I appreciate the sentiment, this piece was written to be read. There are a few reasons for this:
1) We live in a rapidly shifting world, a problem compounded because things are not as they seem. I have to process it just like everyone else, even if my process has been, by circumstance, a longer one.
2) Personally, I was talking to the wrong people about the wrong things for far too long. I am complicit, and I seek penance. I would like to have a different conversation with different people, who care about how people treat other people, and actually want to make a difference.
3) I am fairly sure that even those who know me don’t really know me. Hello.
More even than sharing the piece, I hope you’ll be a regular reader, check back in often, and participate in this discussion of writing as an art. I further invite you to visit (or revisit) my earlier postings of Didion and Lincoln in light of the Confessions post. In particular, Didion’s point about self-discovery and Lincoln’s point about the permanence of writing. The Confessions piece served both missions. Go and do thou likewise.
There is a place for invective and polemic and point-scoring. I do it myself. That won’t be here. Now that I have your attention, it’s my burden to hold it. Let’s proceed.