I’ve never been much with spoken word, off the cuff, no notes or rehearsed statement; even with some guideposts in hand, my words still manage to come out of my mouth not quite right.  When I listen recordings of my voice, it sounds to me like I have a speech impediment, which is perhaps not an uncommon thought when people hear their voice from some other distance and/or direction than their mouth.

When people who know me read me, they invariably react with borderline disbelief.  I don’t sound like a person that should be able to write anything worth reading.  And perhaps none of the scribblings in this blog will be worthwhile, but I hope at least a few lines will be worth some of your time.  I hope at least one will hit you dead-on.

Why dead-on?  Let me break it down.  I derive an invariable pleasure from banging out a phrase that articulates thoughts I don’t have the tongue or poise to express in conversation.  Those rare, crystallized sentiments that hit home, spark up, elicit a visceral reaction — expressions that, in a hyphen, hit dead-on.

That’s the goal of this blog, to pay the time and attention most of my thoughts don’t deserve, but do require if I’m to catch even an inkling of that erstwhile spark, that one phrase in ten-thousand half-murmured impressions swirling at the top of my head that somehow suck in enough weight to sink to eye-level, perhaps as deep as my gut; writing that satisfies me more deeply than taking a long-held shit, hammering a beer and smashing the glass against the wall still echoing with the satisfied bellows of basest, Bukowskian man.

Dig it.  Get at me if you do.  Move on if you don’t, but please do find something that hits you dead-on.