Introduction to the End
To further explain the title in the simplest terms, I vomit my feelings. I regurgitate all that is bottled up inside me. Should I have a coughing attack to the point of gagging, I spew forth. Once I have completed that convulsive action, heave a heavy sigh, I pull myself together and carry on.
When I put pen to paper and turn the page to a new blank page, then and only then I can look back at those words and realize what I have said. Yes it true most of my feelings are unpopular, unflattering, caustic, acidic and at times just plain mean, cruel and possibly unfair.
I have to let you know that I am at times, unapologetic etc about exactly how I feel and what lead me to that perception. I see things differently. Delving into this psyche I cannot see the beauty or clarity that some see in the works of Jackson Pollack. I personally don’t see what he is attempting to communicate. I can gaze upon Picasso or Kandinsky and I can see their art and feel their expression. It is not as if you’re looking at the photographs of Diane Arbus or Annie Leibovitz. Those photographs are simple, complex, and tell a story immediately whereas my mind is a kaleidoscope on 78 RPM.
I have written for many years now and if you look closely and see the forest through the trees, you’ll see a common thread. That tattered single fiber which will be isolated is part of a larger tapestry. I’m not sure how it ended up this way, but my life weaves itself into a place of self-realization that there are others like me out there in the world. Yes, I do feel isolated in a crowd of tens of thousands and I accept, affirm and acknowledge that in the immortal words of Latrice Motherfucking Royale, “Good God Girl Get a Grip.”
