Next Time I Dance

This blog is analogous to my long music career. 

"Don't you want to be famous, Ronny? Don't you want to be rich?"

Oh, I had moments when people in my life told me that gold records and teeming crowds were right around the corner. I'm pretty sure I always knew better. 

Here's a secret: the socially awkward want to communicate. We're just not very good at it. I suppose I sang when I wasn't quite able to talk. I played when I couldn't bring myself to ask Alison to dance. I wrote songs to express my feelings that I didn't dare reveal. All I had to do was make 'em rhyme.

Once, while visiting some forgotten blog site, a pop up appeared, asking, "Start your own blog?"

Sure! Why not?

After six or seven years, I do most of my communicating here. I didn't know back then what I was doing. Still don't. I've told a handful of folks, that I can't see, about every tear and every guffaw and every loss over those years.

It must have been the third grade when I started scrawling Alison's name on my notebook. Did I want her to notice? Did I hope that her friends might tell her?

I don't know. Probably.

These days I bare my soul and slip in messages like notes in bottles tossed overboard into the worldwide web cosmos. Do I pray that her friends will tell her?

I don't know. Probably.