After my very first post on OS, I realized this blog wasn't going to go as planned. I had thought I would create a fun online alter-ego who would be witty and ironic and say all sorts of hilarious and outrageous things that I couldn't get away with in real life. Elvis Nixon was supposed to be to me what Pee Wee Herman is to Paul Rubens.
I can see now that this plan isn't going to work. I am just not up to the task of creating a new persona. One personality is all I can manage. The same experiences and preoccupations that drive my other writing will drive most of my blogging. I cannot get away from myself. As Buckaroo Banzai said, "wherever you go, there you are."
But perhaps I can get something out of blogging that I can't get out of my other writing. The content of what I write here may not differ much from what I might write for publication under my real name, but at least I can experiment with style, tone, and voice in this blog. For example, I would probably not have written that line about an "aquarium of red herrings" under my real name.
In the same vein, I will also use this blog to reexamine certain standards of "good" writing that I have internalized. Like sticking to one topic, for example. Which brings me to the case of a woman I'll call JK.
Probably half the people reading this today are my facebook friends, and probably half of them know JK from college. I was barely acquainted with her, but she made a big impression on me. I can still picture her from the night we met: a beautiful suntanned young hippy chick with a wavy mane of chestnut hair, big dark eyes, and a smile that lit up her whole face. She was like a beautiful sorrel filly that some mischievous minion of Titania had transformed into a human being. She was wearing a tight Bundeswehr tank top (braless), short shorts, and barefoot, with an ankle bracelet, and oh man did that outfit ever work for her. Talk about accentuating the positive.
Our paths crossed a few tantalizing times after that, but we never really got to know each other, which may be just as well. I couldn't ask for a better girlfriend than the one I eventually ended up with, God rest her soul, whom I met at the same epic party at which I met JK. But JK always held a special place in my memory.
Over the years I often wondered what had become of her. I could never remember her last name, so I couldn't look her up. Finally, I came across her picture on the facebook friendlist of a mutual acquaintance.
Now I knew her last name, so I googled her. I was not prepared for what I would find. It turns out she is now a Methodist minister.
Now, I have no problem with persons of the cloth. It's just that … well, I guess when I think of a woman Methodist minister, I think of the one from King of the Hill. It's hard to reconcile that image with that of the nubile young lass in the tank top. I suppose it could be worse; she could be a nun. Still, there's kind of an inverted "my angel is a centerfold" thing going on here for me.
Yikes, look at the time. I gotta walk my dog and catch a free movie at the art museum, so here's where I stop. Y'all can draw your own conclusions.