Unfettered and ready

After so many years of cajoling, pushing, encouraging, etc., the time has come where I sit down and start to write a book. I know it is bound to anger a lot of people; I also know it will make some people laugh. I figure that with the idea of my life's absurdities, observations and ability to turn tragedies into triumph and triumph into idiotic disaster, why not? Sometimes wry, sometimes bitter--or even bittersweet--any story I write could be the perfect hybrid of fact and fiction. Why not write something when I've never been anything more than just a guy trying to get through this life without fucking up beyond repair? I have hands; I have words, I have eyes, thought and language which gives me all the tools I need to come up with something.

Not that this isn't a hackneyed theme; I've read it and it's been done poorly--I think I can come up with my own stamp on what it's like to think you've got it all only to realize what you think you want and what you want are never on the same plain at the same time. In short, sometimes I feel like everything is right and mine and other times, I ask why does it always rain on me at the most inopportune moment? It's about yin and yang, light and shade--me knowing what I've had, what I've lost, what I took, what I abandoned and what am I doing? Names will be changed to protect the guilty and the innocent; the places and circumstances will not.

I don't know--the motivation is simple. It's time. This isn't exactly the trail of rage and melody... this is more akin to the road of broken hearts, broken strings and broken promises only to be rebuilt at a later date... I guess. Who knows for sure? I'm looking at mid-May as my starting point. And I believe it will happen...