Starting to write has reminded me of something.
I used to go alone to open mic nights on a regular basis. And I used to meet all sorts. Once I met this guy. His name was, I want to say, maybe, Joe, or something? He seems like he could have been a Joe. But it was a long time ago and I’ve completely forgotten. Actually, it probably wasn’t Joe at all. So let’s call him Joe.
Joe was a musician, or maybe a poet. He did something. So I’ve forgotten pretty much all the details of this occasion, and it’s turning into not a very good story. But there is a point, I promise.
I chatted to this guy for a bit, though not ‘like that’ because he was quite a bit younger than me. He was an angsty, artsy teenage guy. Possibly he was ‘emo’ but I don’t think the term had yet gained popularity.
Now I’m getting to the point. We both had websites (the internet having already gained considerable popularity) and exchanged these details. When I looked at his, boy was I in for a shock.
Endless, stream of consciousness writing, devoid of coherency or formatting. Details of people and interactions, events, thoughts, feelings, that had just happened. Copious expletives. I was mentioned, I remember realising with a shudder.
It was difficult to read, and slightly painful, and hella creepy. And it’s the sort of thing that, when I thought about it, kept me from writing, a bit. Cause, I mean, whoa. I don’t wanna sound like that. I don’t want the world to witness the full extent of the chaos. There are plenty of train wrecks and earthquakes and never-ending volcanos in the news. And that’s what it was like as well: the disaster that keeps you glued to the news as it unfolds, just to see how horrible it can get.
But, however many years later, I realise that there’s something a bit beautiful about that kind of thing as well, even if it’s also a complete mess. It takes a very specific kind of courage to display such a vicious tangled catastrophe in public. I wish I could find that “blog” again (that word definitely hadn’t gained popularity yet. I feel old). Or remember that kid’s name. If it’s you, hey, what’s up? I hope things eventually got better.
Anyway, I couldn’t do what “Joe” did. I’ll always edit. ‘Cause that’s what I’m like. But that’s not the only way. Joe What’s-his-face showed me that.
