blogging, first steps

by richibi

January 31, 2008                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

with little more than the word “blog” at my elbow I headed out this week to my first blogging class, the night was mostly clear, the sky was black already at seven thirty in the evening, I imagined spring and comfortable jaunts under the late afternoon sky instead of this artificial and edgy glitter of neon street lights along, for me, a more guarded way, night time is for less restricted activities, the fray of people who are younger now than I am

a couple of unlikely snowflakes suddenly crystallized, dully twinkled and duly danced before me to my surprise, I hadn’t counted on winter

I went into the class, tucked away in some corner I had to ask about, full of computers, of course

I sat at one

slowly not quite a dozen maybe others followed, found places, including the teacher

I hope this is going to be fairly elementary, I said to spark the air, classroom energy, with a question, I thought, from everybody

absolutely, she said, or something no less peremptory, no less categorical

we were all, I think, well satisfied, I certainly was

we all stated our reasons for being there, one of the few last I declared that I was, I am, a writer, in my, at least, heart, I write like others organize flowers, setting my metaphors to otherwise barren phrases, alliteration, onomatopeias for lilt and delight, synonyms sometimes maybe for variety, in a bouquet, I imagine, of words, I like to offer them as letters, communications, to friends and people, I thought I’d try to enlarge on that, confined as I am to my address list right now, my “captive” address list, an uncle of mine once said, a curmudgeon, who called the patients I hoped I was serenading with my still novice flute at the palliative care unit where I volunteered then my “captive audience”

he had a point, though an ornery one

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  it’s like stepping into traffic for me right now, I expressed about blogging when I was asked, the rube in the big city, I need some help to get around, what’s a blog, it was more or less what I thought it was, a web log, she said, a web diary, now I had a road map, next we started one, each one of us individually at each our computer, I got stage fright immediately, couldn’t find a thing to say, couldn’t find a word to write until just now, three days later

this is my introduction

welcome to my space    

                                                                                                                                                                                                               outside, the two snowflakes, that dully twinkled, duly danced, remember, had become a wonderland, snow like down fell, my path crunched and glistened, I thought of poetry, of course, enchantment, my literary aspirations, noted my leaving clear and crackling impressions in at least the snow, like metaphors, I thought to myself, crisp, stark metaphors, all the way home