Oh. Hey. It’s me!
Please save all questions, comments and applause until the end.
There are 7.3 billion people in the world.
There are 326 million people in the United States.
There are 5.8 million people in the State of Wisconsin.
There are 600,000 people in the City of Milwaukee.
There are 3 people in my house.
I am one of them. My name is Aaron.
I have words. A lot of words. My intake of words is far greater than my output of words. The drain from my brain to my mouth gets clogged and the words have nowhere to go. They bang around in my head. The words are clear and coherent but soon they start to compete for space with each other. Ideas turn to thoughts turn to fragments turn to a mass, all jumbled together, like a black, tangled, snarled ball yarn. They are no good to me and no good to anyone else.
I’m like the internet with no search engine. I’m like traffic with no stoplights. I am form without function.
The backups are inevitable to this clog. The words bleed out in dribs and drabs. Sometimes I carry around little notebooks in my pocket. I write down words or bunches of words, half formed sentences and ideas to get them out. I have notebook upon notebook sitting in my attic right now, stacked up,dusty and yellowing, words upon words that have occurred to me over the years.
I can’t put on a pair of pants without finding scraps of paper with words written on them. My jacket pockets contain grocery store receipts with scribbled ink words slashed across them.
My handwriting is poor. More than half the time I cannot make out the words and do not remember when or why I wrote them down. Handwriting is a big issue for me. My words come out faster than my fingers can write them.
I started typing the words on computer screens and saving them. I have dozens of the hard disks in my attic, unlabeled and unusable with words hidden in them, the technology I saved them on obsolete. There are words on hard drives that have broken down or been recycled or smashed into pieces to prevent anyone from seeing the words.
The nightstand next to my bed is filled with flash drives. There are a lot of words on those as well.
I live trapped, high up in a tower of words. They only way down is to free them. Not all at once, or the tower collapses and I with it. Not too slow, or the tower continues to rise. But they will never stop coming.
A stream, then. A flow of words and ideas and fragments in and out. The tower will gradually come down, and the words and I will be free. I need somewhere to put them. They need to be away from me. I wouldn’t mind visiting them from time to time, but they can’t live here anymore.
I’ll put them here then. Just to see what happens. Here seem as good a place as any.
I’ll tell you a secret. It’s not a very good one but I’ll tell you anyway. You may be reading this but I’m not writing these words for you. I’m not even sure that I want you to read these words but if it’s it is in front of you and you see these words you might as well read them. Bu I’m writing these words to me. Not me, like the me you would meet on the street or the me people talk to at work or the me that my family knows. The other me.
I have conversations with myself in my head. Not thoughts or dreams or fragments. Actual, full fledged conversations. I feel like I’m not the only person who has this but it doesn’t seem like something people talk about. I know it’s me talking to me – the voice sounds the same as my regular voice. But the other me definitely has it’s own viewpoint on our topics of conversation. As long as I don’t give this other me a name I feel like I’m ok. The minute I name this other me is when I may be in trouble. If I name it then maybe it won’t be me anymore. Who will it be? If I’m conversing in my head with someone else does that make me what – split personality? Schizophrenic? I doubt it but I have very little formal training in much of anything so who knows. This other me doesn’t’ tell me to do anything and is not dangerous. We do argue a lot though. Maybe the other me is the real me and I’m the other me in it’s head arguing. It’s hard to tell. But this me/other me contributes to the word clogging. So here’s to me. Or me.
If you made it this far I need you to know that I’m very tangential. I have a hard time staying on point. I’ll do my best but promise noth–ooh look a butterfly!
Do I have to say blog though? I have nothing against a blogs or people that have blogs. Actually people that have blogs and write on them consistently seems to have a discipline that I never will have. Who know, if things go like they usually do this will be part one of one, another thing I tried and then didn’t try anymore. The word blog – “web log” – feels illegitimate to me. I promise, I’m not looking for legitimacy from anyone. I’m not even sure I understand what I mean by that. A book – even a bad one – something written and published by a second entity feels more legitimate. I try sometimes to get people to see my words in other venues – it worked once. Here is a story of mine that this cool website http://drunkmonkeys.us/fiction/2015/2/25/trece-by-aaron-j-como put out about a year ago. It does not exist in print, only on the internet. Is the internet print? Is it legit?
Understand I am in no way comparing myself to anyone. Just a thought though – what if the internet was always around? What if someone like Thomas Jefferson put out the Declaration of Independence on a blog? Would the British have been like ‘Jesus, another American douchebag with a blog. Just ignore it he’ll get bored and stop blogging soon enough.’ Would the Americans have taken a blog declaration as seriously?
Even if We the People did take T-Jeff’s blog seriously and the results were still the same, how would we have framed a copy of it? Just some printout with his signature? What if all our important historical documents were blog printouts?
Do you think if Thomas Jefferson had a blog he would have brought up Sally Hemings? I feel like he might have. People are braver or more apt to spill stuff when they are writing or texting or blogging then they ever would be verbally.
I hope future Presidents start signing important documents with smiley faces and emojis.
I am now doing what they call “free association.”
I guess ‘blog’ will do. If someone comes up with a better name, though, please let me know.
I did want to give a shout out to my cousin Joe. He’s got a blog that is about to drop soon if it hasn’t already. We were at another cousin’s wedding last weekend and he was very pumped about his blog. I was thinking about writing some words down and Joe’s enthusiasm made me decide to tryout this blog. At least this one post anyway. His will be much more coherent, I’m sure. Joe is an idea man. I love his optimism and his enthusiasm. Also, he like burritos and it was his birthday last Monday. I was thinking about him so I bought a burrito in his honor. True story. Here’s the burrito I ate. It was from Chipotle.
I’m not sure if this has been too many or not enough words. Feels like a lot of words either way. Please believe that this is just the tip of the iceberg on how many words I have. How much storage space does the internet have?
That’s enough. I feel like a few of the words are out. I feel better but a little light headed. I need to lay down. I Here are a few of someone else’s words to keep in mind from one of my favorite authors:
“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies-“God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
#2 – Be nice!