After a month of posting daily to Scooter in the Sticks I need to pull off the road for gas and look at the map. Not sure where I’m headed or what I hope to see along the way. Riding home from work today had me thinking about a direction.
And that it’s still cold.
For a long time I’ve been content to let things unfold without plans or interference on my part. It’s how I decided to participate in the Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge 2016. That and a sometimes no-well-thought-out response to ideas and projects that “seem” creatively challenging.
I won’t rise quickly to paint the bathroom, but 29 posts in 29 days – count me in.
Being completely honest, I learned a lot about myself, my ideation and writing abilities, and was rewarded with some interesting web data about reactions to post subjects and frequency. Not sure if all bloggers do this but I monitor traffic on a variety of blogs and websites of which I admire the voice and content and measure my traffic against them. There’s no real reason to do this, I’m not selling anything or trying to attract sponsorship opportunities. Perhaps it’s the little part of me that harbors some inkling of competition.
So when I received a message a few days ago about what I was trying to accomplish here and how I may be able to do that without posting frantically I was left wondering what my goals are with Scooter in the Sticks.
Makes sense only if I connect the time I spend riding, making photographs and writing as a means to an end. Can’t that be the end itself? A labor of love.
When pushed I can devise a goal: Create an engaged readership to which I can market my Scooter in the Sticks book. If I ever write one.
Or: Share the cosmic experience of riding a Vespa.
Behaviors are hard to break. Riding home today I had to stop to look at a large, filthy pile of snow. I could never pass up a pile of trash along the road, tailings at a mine or debris collections of almost any kind. “Evidence of something” echoes in my head as the collective call of discovery.
I first heard the term “abjection” in art school as discussions took place around some of the more controversial art in America boiled — artists like Cindy Sherman, Kiki Smith, Louise Bourgeois, Carolee Schneemann, Collier Schorr and others upsetting the status quo of beauty. But that depressed, gloomy look of certain places was always attractive — beauty is in the eye of the beholder. These piles of dirty snow are as lovely as the sweeping dunes of White Sands. Maybe I’ll travel another photographic road.
Where the road leads now I can’t say. A glut of Vespa maintenance tasks await along with a spring cleaning of the garage and reassignment of a snowblower. So any plans may drift in limbo for awhile.
The next ride could be interesting.
Sometimes seeing a sign that says “East” or “West” can trigger a strong desire to just ride into the sunset. (Or sunrise depending on choice). I’ve been itching to put hundreds and hundreds of miles behind me to embrace the cleansing nature of a long ride. The wind slowly dries my brain of the sloshing thoughts that do more to irritate than enlighten and can transform an easy commute into a tedious mental exercise.
“Just ride” has been ringing in my head. My friend Paul has been offering opportunities and plans. Maybe it’s time for the next ride.
Blog be damned for the moment.