I realized that the more days that have elapsed since my last post, the harder it is to think of something to write. Right now, these posts are somewhat like rare art or endangered species, without any of that real monetary value or meaning to the world. Let’s face it, in a hundred years, we won’t have archaeologists gushing over the lost limited editions of The Angry Suburbanite. So, I’d better get going and deliver some content to at least prevent this endeavor from landing on the scrap heap of Failed Resolutions Past. And so the next post should be something good, right? Something important, worthwhile…inspirational? And not like posting a favorite poem, cos that’s really kind of a cop-out, isn’t it?
Since I’m just coming into my voice (which is one of those sorts of phrases that self-important, creative types use pretentiously all the time. Apologies all around.) I realize that I need to muse on a variety of things to see where it leads me. My nom de plume here is “The Angry Suburbanite,” so that must mean I find myself often aggravated. True, there’s lot of fodder there, but there are lots of different types of aggravation and I should carefully consider how I want to explore that here.
I mean, it’s easy these days to be angry. There is so much to potentially be angry about. War, crime, poverty, politics, man’s inhumanity to man. The decline of knowledge and the loss of a polite society. But these are the Big Things. I can’t find the fortitude to tackle Big Things here, because these are multi-faceted issues that I’m largely unqualified to resolve. Sure, I can add my two cents to the cacophony of other voices who think their offerings make a difference. And maybe they do, but it’s just not my thing.
[Except the “polite society” part. Would it kill us, Society, to get some f-in’ manners? It’s a sad state of affairs when most young people seem to get instruction on how to interact with their fellow humans from their first job waiting tables! Common courtesy, people! Definitely fertile angry ground for another day.]
Aside from that, I suspect my lot is to rage against the little things. Or maybe not rage, so much as observe…the bad, the good and, more importantly, the absurd. Because, deep down, I’m an optimist.
Or at least a hopeful pessimist.
The Angry Suburbanite 