This Whole Fire and Ice Business

Can you believe that I haven't posted anything for three weeks and yet two hundred plus people have stopped in just this morning to see what is up?  Me neither.  Although I appreciate it.  I really do.

Remember that old Bob Frost poem about how the earth was going to end?  Or, in this case, since poetry is a house built on a metaphorical foundation, The Year of Magical Painting?  God knows I tried fire.

Click on December 2013 in the archives, roll down to the post titled "Old and Cold" and read it.  Then read "The Greek Chorus Weighs In."  Then "Golden Years."  Then, finally, the last post of 2013, titled "Final Scene."  The one that closes with the Stones singing Sweet Virginia.

That was me ending with fire.

I thought it was powerful.
I did too.  I don't know why it didn't stick.
You're a man with things to say.

Rereading it all, I was particularly moved by the last line of "Golden Years" -- my homage to the Peter McManus Cafe.  Is it homage?  My French is rusty.  It's either homage or fromage; whichever isn't the cheese.

Anyway, the line went "Which is both life and sad."

The preceding two lines, if you're the sort of person who needs some context but refuses to actually click on the God-damned archives and receive not just context but the actual thing, straight from the forehead of Zeus, went like this: "But it's not quite the same.  And it's never going to be."

Here.  This may be easier for you ...

But it's not quite the same.  And it's never going to be.
Which is both life and sad.

Now click on January of 2014, scroll to the bottom and read the very first post of the new year.  Which is me "Coming To."  And yet, dear reader, the truth is I think I should have stayed in bed with Suzanne.  I don't think my heart's been in it the way it used to be.

Going forward, if I have something to say I'm going to post it on Medium.  When I do I'll announce  something on Twitter.  I'd insert one of those "follow me on Twitter @GVRaymond" buttons here, but that seems so tawdry.

Instead I'll grab a line from an old friend ...

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.  I am leaving now.  Goodbye.

And, of course, this ...