Anybody with the Facebook account can be a writer or a journalist.
Anybody with an Instagram Account can be a Media Star.
So I’m beginning to wonder,
what’s the point in it all.
If everyone is talking
is anybody listening
or are we just waiting for
someone, anyone to pause for a breath
so we can jump in and
for a moment shine?
I used to think that
writing and painting
drawing and singing, acting and photography
was a craft you worked at
dedicated yourself to
learned about and lived all of the time.
It lived in your soul.
Now all you have to do is enter your password
click and flick and there you are
securing your immortality on the internet
among photobombing cats and dogs
clueless millennials, angry Bernie Bros
I think I’d better keep writing and reading
creating and listening
walking the world,
getting lost, being found
with my dog at my side, and not my phone
a renaissance woman
Daily Post Prompt: Better
Yesterday an impressive storm rolled into town.
I watched it move up from Seattle-, there was thunder and lighting and the clouds were dark and light and they swirled together in odd patterns as it moved into our area.
I’ve seen storms like that in the Midwest- not so much in the Pacific Northwest.
Here’s an interesting factoid:
I’ve almost been hit by lighting about four times.
Yesterday on the bus ride home it hit somewhere close to us and the right side of the bus filled up with a flash of silver light.
I don’t know why I felt guilty, but I wasn’t surprised it was that close. It usually is.
I’m starting to think of lighting as the Hell Hound On My Trail.
Like Robert Johnson sang, I gotta keep moving I guess.
I got to keep movin’, I got to keep movin’
Blues fallin’ down like hail, blues fallin’ down like hail
Hmmm-mmm, blues fallin’ down like hail, blues fallin’ down like hail
And the days keeps on worryin’ me
There’s a hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail
Daily Post Prompt: Panicked