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Waking up this morning was not a dreamy affair. I might have dreamed, but all I realized when I woke up was that I had a headache from drinking too much wine last night. It has everything to do with me listening to binaural beats. Doing that makes me emotionally sensitive. It's not liberating for winos like me to let themselves get too emotional.
A woman wrote that she liked getting to understand the "real person beyond the fantasies" when she read this blog. It's not unusual for some people to think that a "real person" writes this material. I be-co-me with the careactor who composes it, and once done, that persona drifts away. They consider themselves real people, and appear to want me to be one too, but for their own reasons, not mine. She seemed disappointed that I don't allow for my readers to make comments.
I guess if she kept a blog she might write for the very purpose of eliciting comments simply because she concluded it would be the most rewarding part of blogging for anybody. Seeking personal rewards is not why I do it. Allowing my readers to comment on stuff I invent in the specious present is more of an aggravation than something that "rewards" me.
The problem with a Comments section for me is that instead of writing creatively in the moment, and attempting to make sense of my drifting thoughts, I find myself addressing the comments people have about my apparently asinine conclusions. I don't consider people's reactions to what I make up as I go along germane to the purpose of doing what I do. I like that people actually read this blog, but I don't really understand why they do it.
In my opinion, people should make up their own stories about what matters to them rather than accept other people's opinions as representative of what is not there for them. That is, if they actually have their own opinions. It's not like I intentionally lie to describe what crosses my mind, it's just that it doesn't matter if what I write is considered the truth. Writing the truth is not itself my purpose for writing.
Truth is a passing fancy in the way I look at the world. I wish what is often called "the truth" were not some extemporaneous fantasy that becomes the law of the land. Who doesn't want what they publicly profess to believe as true to stay what they claim it is forever?
I just got back from having breakfast at the local diner. While there, I heard people talking about the weather. I live in a farming community where the farmers grow a lot of produce like bell peppers and cucumbers. They have a small window for selling the products they grow that is controlled by how the harvest season and the trucking industry comes down.
It starts in Florida and moves up the Atlantic coastal plains. To have any chance at all of making money they have to have some good luck with the weather. A late frost can bring catastrophe. They have to plant early enough to have ripe produce when the buyers pass through the area, but if they plant too early, frost can kill their plants and they lose their investment.
A general rule around here is to wait until after Easter to plant. Adventuresome capitalists don't do that. If they plant early, and their crops don't get killed by a late frost, then they can get the premium price for their product. The market moves north with the passing season, and the buyers and the truckers themselves make more money by not having to pay the extra costs of shipping from Florida to the big cities up in the northeast.
There is a forecast of frost in this area for tonight. That's why all the chatter at the diner was about the possibility of that happening, and what the farmers think they can do to prevent losing all the time and money they have already invested. Even the non-farmers are worried, because if the farmers lose because of frost, then the money they would make from a successful crop goes out the window.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
