Without a sense of place the work is often reduced to a cry of voices in empty rooms, a literature of the self, at its best poetic music; at its worst a thin gruel of the ego.– William Kennedy

This morning among other things, I am grateful for my blog.

I love writing in my blog, I love looking at my blog, I love reading my blog. Yeah I said it, I read my own blog, I can’t get enough of it, it has been a very therapeutic outlet for me, and a great learning experience about myself. But I’m no where near done here folks, this on line diary over the next year is going to get wild, it is going to get down and dirty, I’m going EMO all over your asses. Lookout! I even have my very own MySpace page.

But truly I do enjoy this blog and I hope it shows in my writing. I don’t do this for anyone other than myself, and if it just happens to brighten up somebody’s day then that’s just an added bonus. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, or any for that matter. That is why I’m here, every day, pounding away on this keyboard hoping that the typing stylings of Cary Darling come together and form a beautiful piece of music that will eventually touch the heart of someone, and in that joy may we both find answers.

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