winds of...

Rumblings. Portents. Winds of...
Okay, no poetic melodrama.
But there is a change in the air, one i've felt coming for quite some time. A change to this website, and to a lesser extent my creative focus. In many ways this change is harmless and organic. In other ways, i do feel conflict and existential angst.
It feels almost strange to be talking to you without any literary pretense. Hello, my three fans (and sweet cricket). Over the past few years, my writings have shifted more and more toward fare designed for public performance. That's been a lurking goal almost from the start, a melding of my performance skills and literary voice. At the same time however, i've tried not to have any agenda beyond the words themselves. I've tried to give you a voice free of editors, deadlines, commercial aspiration, or above all self-censor. If i haven't always succeeded, i've come disturbingly close. I've also tried to live by picasso's words: "The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." Of course, pablo died filthy rich, so make of that what you will.
Over the past few years, on this little Gulf of Mexico island, i've taken my baby steps in public speaking. Ever polishing and expanding my repertoire, and writing pieces with a greater focus on entertainment over enlightenment (or even just raw honesty for its own sake). I haven't considered that a compromise, i embrace the nobility of simply putting a smile on the face of some overburdened fellow traveler on this space rock. They say it takes ten years to become really good at something, and after eight years, i feel ready for my close-up, ms. demille...and constrained by a lack of public speaking opportunities. A return to some progressive metropolis beckons. My time in New York was wonderful, but i haven't seriously considered any destination other than San Francisco. Cafes, bookstores, colleges, coffee shops, libraries...and a population abounding with semi-free thinkers.
Well and good.
But my aspirations go beyond literature - and that's the dicey part. I've happily not yet received one thin dime for these products of my mind, but i know i'll be seriously flirting with that, in putting myself out there where (and as much as) i plan. A part of me is genuinely open to that. There is nobility in modesty...but no one takes care of you for free in this world. Money's security is more illusion than we realize, but at this barbaric point in history, it's a powerful illusion amongst us small-minded naked apes. And a part of me is weary of living close to the edge, without the simple "luxury" of knowing my most basic needs will be taken care of beyond today (and worse, knowing that some of my needs will not be taken care of today, nor likely tomorrow...a situation that money would change). I currently put food in my tummy through the labors of my hands and back, and i've structured that part of my life in such a way that it's not onerous, but...if my mind can afford me some creature comfort and security, i'm a bit too weary to resist. I've been more alone and unloved than any human ought be (though i know i'm tragically close to average in that regard). In particular, the ascetic, sober life feels so non-conducive to female companionship in this material world.
I'm aware of the considerable pitfalls in this path change. When commerce arrives, compromise isn't far behind. What if some of my writings strike a chord, but others more cherished don't? What if opportunity comes cloaked in conditionality? The perils of "feeding the beast", or even just seeking it, are myriad.
And how might all this change what i offer you here? As i focus more on performance, a drop in output is expected. I've also started to learn how to play my own songs on ukulele, a time-sucking endeavor.
But deeper than that...
The voices of "I ME MINE" might grow harder to keep at bay. The voices of fear, telling you to protect what is yours from the wolves. Some of you may have noticed occasional posts over the past year saying nothing more than "available in performance only". You might scratch your head, indeed. I've started holding back some of my juiciest pieces, in anticipation of copyrighting and other such selfishness. It's even possible certain choice entries may one day be removed from this forum which costs no one a penny. Might this site one day morph into a venue for nothing but the occasional review or poem (Copyright a poem? Who the hell would even steal one?)?
Maybe.
I did ask for help, don't forget. A voice of purity could be preserved, if we could find just a few thousand souls in this world of billions, willing to subsidize me in a profoundly minor way. I put this plea on the site, even giving it its own tab (http://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/search/label/please%20help%3F). But alas, no takers did i entice.
Hello? Rich widow?
So i prepare to walk into the land i've always been told suits my laid-back ways to a T...a mythical land where i've never trod.
California.
And a shining city by the sea.
Sorry, more poetic nonsense. I'm sure San Fran has its share of leeches, liars, and lithium junkies.
And soon, it will have a naked meadow.
I love you all.

P.S. Is anyone impressed i made it to the end of the article without once mentioning Starfleet Command?