It's been over a year since I last wrote. I miss my voice. I liked the idea of myself as a blogger, but the reality of it was disappointing. I can never quite figure out why I stop doing things, or don't continue things I once enjoyed. When they excavate my brain in 2 million years, there will be an interesting geologic story to be told. My changes and reasons seem to subscribe to a vast scale of time. I think about how much I enjoy reading my friends' blogs and peeking into the psyches of strangers through their blogs and I wish I could be part of the inter-blast. I am, at heart or by training, a lurker. I would like to train to be a contributor.

I am listening to a fantastic album - Country Club by John Doe and the Sadies. It makes me want to write, to use my voice to share feeling and cause feeling. Ooh, shivers, that album just led seamlessly into Folsom Prison Blues. Sometimes iTunes is a little creepy in its perfection. Country Club is about John Doe's love and appreciation of country songwriting and music, so hearing Johnny Cash right after him feels like the best illustration.

I have been trying to think about how to contribute. Am I incubating, preparing, germinating? Or is this cowardice, something that needs to be weaned, served, nipped in the bud? I try to have respect for my pace. I alternate between faith and impatience. Can those go together or do they require alternation? I think I can hold both at once - faith in my imaginative life, mixed with impatience at the pace of its manifestation.

Just listened to the wonderful part of Busted when Johnny laughs. "No laughing during the song. Don't you know this is being recorded?"