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First Things Last

I worry about a lot of things. Of course, I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s, what, automatic and instinctual? methinks that is the proper phrasing–then again, words are changing so much these days, it’s hard to tell.

Nagging thoughts haunt me, these figmented imaginaries running miles upon miles in Brain-O-Cranium, Ltd. Some are strange, some are stranger than strange. It gets to a point, really, where I’m determining whether one thought deserves a straitjacket more than another oh oh oh oh yes thats right because theyre beyond rational investigation correctamundo!

First things last, junk heaps are actually treasure heaps, or that’s how the saying goes. It was told to me by that guy who was told by the other guy who heard it from the guy working in the soup kitchen where the first guy talked about it over hot cocoa. Now I remember, yes. Forgetting information is my game, and my name is–lemme get back to you on that one.

Three years later, and the same predicament reigns supreme. Who’da thunk it, certainly not me, ’cause I forgot it in the first place. You knew that already, but I betcha didn’t know the Moon is Saturn’s third cousin, twice removed. Few people do, not only because I made it up; however, nobody can tell the difference. Third cousin, fourth cousin. All those planets are related in some fashion. Similarities abound up there. Think about it. Most of them are big-ass space rocks…and that’s all I got.

I never passed astronomy.

I never took astronomy, either, but, hey, man, space is space. Everybody’s got a personal version of it.

Who am I to say there’s not an astronaut hanging out here and now, livin’ for that sweet space toothpaste? If that’s not an incentive to brush your teeth, then I don’t know what is. Maybe we should get all the non-brushing people together, stand them in a line, and hire WWE fighters to march past and rub their knuckles together. It might scare a couple of them, I dunno, worth a shot. It could also backfire and cause the non-brushers to go total Dental Rebellion and declare war on the toothbrushing industry, as if there’s one giant corporation devoted to the practice.

We’ll see if all matters pan out, we always do. It’s human nature. We look ahead and turn around and look back just because. HUMAN NATURE.

“Will worries never cease?” said Shakespeare, I think, but I’m guessing.

Sue me.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

ID 10185556 © Ekaterina Staats | Dreamstime.com

an obligatory post about gun(S)

Talking points: x, a, b, r^3, 4orty 6ixty [important, eh?] and the choir goes, hey!

“As required by the blog-o-sphere rules, and what all, certain opinions must come to light within certain years,” Policy #4435, Pg. 340, Par. 3, Line .01. Blogging, As A Lifestyle, Edition 3, Vol. 1.

I’m here to talk, to talk about guns–oh, it’s time for the definitive argument, as put forth by the most official source in the world. So, to begin, modern times are rife with danger

of course danger is subjective but were all friends here and someones gotta say it right

uh here’s a picture of where we hope to be in six years:

[Insert well-charted map of policies and misc.]

well ok but how about red flag laws and and g_u_n_s?

nothings more important to me but lemme quickly give a personal anecdote

so

once upon a time i met this guy who claimed to know where the world was going in five years i got interested and i listened to him like anyone would because he was dressed in snazzy clothes and spoke in a highfalutin accent and he started off fantastic but as all things go he didnt have anything too interesting to add to the conversation the end

so

thats the general gist and now actions will take place which I unfortunately have no influence upon however as all things go i wont belabor the point too much

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Pynchon Photographed

Starting to read some Pynchon, that’s new. I’m attempting Gravity’s Rainbow, that notoriously complex Post-Modern tome. It’d be real cool to meet the guy–Thomas Pynchon, that is, though he’s the reclusive equivalent of two Salingers.

You ever seen his picture?

It’s strangely iconic, since, for one, not many authors’ photos are iconic; I am, of course, excluding Poe, Twain, Hemingway, and Faulkner from that category. Pynchon’s got a sallowly narrow face, and the photo gives it these rugged contortions (grains, black-and-white specks) that have no bearing on his sharp gaze, the kind looking across lands and oceans from an at-first-glance stagnant P.O.V.. The Academic in full, albeit noticeably coordinated, exposure. He’s the P.M God chugging along an intellectual legacy with as many bumps in its cruise control as there are abrupt dips giving rise to its lengthy leaps. A lapel’s barely visible in the frame, but it’s enough to solidify his title and open imaginative capabilities as to whether he’s rocking elbow patches or chalk dust. Harvard or Cambridge, those locales rumble through the mind and have no business there. Neither of them. More like Cornell U. Something about the picture’s content/context; it makes you want to jump to the uppermost ranking, top of the charts of those charts. Pynchon. Winner of the National Book Award. It should fit together, Ivy League and literary achievement. At least, those are the connotations I’m faced with, wonder about yours–and wouldn’t you know it, but connotations aren’t more than rigidly set opinions set forth by categorical majorities more or less agreeing on stereotypes.

I’m doing that. So are you. We’re both participating.

Should be a good book, Gravity’s Rainbow. I haven’t started, but it’s next on my list. I’ll get around to it, after I’m done examining his photo.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

December Reflections

Well, it’s been a while; I’ll say that much. Monthly intervals, really, which are understandably long times, are long times. Who knows if that just made sense or not. All I know is, I don’t have an online grammatician checking on things, but maybe, someday…

Life’s been pretty crazy for me, and I wonder if it has for all you guys. This does have worldwide reception, right, so how’re things going in China or Egypt? How’s life treating the Brazilian readers of this blog? See, now, I think about things like these, then I start to wonder: “well, why don’t you just watch the news, you nincompoop?” and okay, fair point, which I will interject with another point: “the news doesn’t tell us everything about everyone from everywhere.” It never has, and that’s the way the system works. 

Random question. What’s your guys’ interpretation of the current topical affairs? Ah, allow me to alter the topic sentence to random and vague question. It’s almost impossible to answer a question phrased as such, wouldn’t you think? I’d have to preface it with a whole bunch of other randomly placed facts and assertions–then I’d just be going off the deep end, to use a cliche. 

Let’s refresh here. 

First off, I want to say a blog is something incredible, a unique connection to the world. 

Second, I’ll reiterate the first comment. 

Third, there’s times, I think, when the world stops making sense, and these times can be frequent in occurrence; I suppose, too, this third comment is the whole premise of this post.

Stated premise: I’m sitting here in the basement of my parents’ house, currently finished with the first semester of Sophomore year at UCCS, and I’m writing this post at 8:30 PM on Tuesday. I’m nineteen years old, almost twenty, and I’ve had Thoughts Of A Southpaw for almost three years. By nature, I’m an antisocial guy who reads and writes and runs for fun [to some, a cocktail for destruction]; now by no means is this an informational profile, though it’s written as one. What I’m doing here, what my main intention is–express to the world who I am and why I write stuff so often. 

I’m A Southpaw, but I’m more than that, and that signature’s become a weird emblem to me. I like it, really do, and I’ll confess my favorite part of writing these blogs is signing them. It’s as if I’m validating them as some other personality, as A Southpaw, not as simply Will Boswell. It’s something exciting to embrace, but something which I also fear. Makes me think of The Dark Half by Stephen King for some odd reason; although, it’s not so odd when I stop and seriously think about it.

Maybe all I do is rant sometimes, and what the hell do I know about some of the things I write about? It’s cathartic a lot of the time, writing is, as I’m sure it is with many of the people reading this. It’s both incredibly relaxing and heartrendingly lonely, but that’s the definition of about anything worthwhile in our lives, I suppose. I never know what I’m trying to say, and I’m always writing like mad for an answer–and maybe that’s my problem. I look too much and rarely find anything worth telling others about, thus most of my blog posts.

It’s not like I’m lost, though it’ll sometimes feel that way, and it’s not like I’ve got a map of all the answers, either. None of us do. I’ve come to realize that. Good to know those things, keeps you on your toes.

I want to address things, but I don’t want to say too much. 

Closing remarks, then. 

We all live in fantastic times, what a moment to be alive, huh? I hope everyone’s able to see them as fantastic, but I know that’s not possible [wait,  says every teacher, but it is!]. Times, then, are determined by the perceivers, not the perceived, and that’s all there is to it. Just like the news, isn’t it?

Funny, I still don’t feel as if I’m finished.

And yet…the world spirals onward into infinity.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Infinite Sonic

Whoo, boy, you guys ever heard of Infinite Jest? Hell of a book; I mean, man, that thing is a masterpiece, even if all masterpieces have their fair share of flaws. Some sections are overlong, and some don’t seem to have any purpose to the overall story. But I will say this: David Foster Wallace knew what he wanted people to feel, what he wanted them to get out of the book. Thing is, there’s no one thing to be taken from Infinite Jest. Like life, it’s a series of ups and downs, good and bad. At the beginning, you think, “Looking forward to this, gonna be so much fun”–then, by around page 600, or the fifth hour of a nine hour road trip, you go, “okay, keep it moving, pal…yep, romance, uh-huh, violence, death, and depression.”

Almost at the end. Eighty pages left to go, and that’s after a period of almost three consecutive months. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a life-changing book, ’cause that’s a trite phrase, but it’s a book that you’ll remember long after you read it. I dunno about you, but when I read David Copperfield, it was an akin experience to this one. Massive book. Loads of characters. Empathy towards said characters. More learned perspective on Life, post-reading. I’m not comparing Wallace to Dickens, as that’s a hard bargain for anyone to push onto me. What I am saying is it takes a good amount of skill to convey truthfully even a small portion of reality in fiction. Writers are always saying we’re nothing but liars, and I disagree. Telling the truth of a story is the hardest part in writing it.

So, why’s Sonic in the title? Why is Sonic there? What the actual hell? It could be that I just got a job at a Sonic, or there’s the smallest chance I’m obsessed with a lightning-fast, blue hedgehog. To save time, as well as words, I’m gonna go with the latter. I’m a Sega fanboy, what can I say? I remember the times when I powered up the old 80’s Sega Genesis–and I’m totally lying, geez, gullible much? I’m a friggin’ carhop, alright? Ya got me.

In the days of yore, I might’ve been a dishwasher, but no longer; I say, NO LONGER! Times are a changin’! Isn’t that right? God help me, I think so, but how can I know? Dishes used to be my friends, but then…then they betrayed me, those dirty, filthy–ooh,  bit repetitive, Boswell, excuse me, those dirty, monkey-brained (OO-OO-AA-AA!) dishes. I won’t go into a convoluted backstory. You get the picture, or you will; I did just mail it out.

Infinite Sonic, heh, me likey.

Move over Mr. Wallace, I got my own Jest to–to jest. Damn. That could’ve been good. Don’t have enough energy to try again, so settle for it, guys. Roll dice, or something, is Rock-Paper-Scissors still a thing?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Photo Cred: Cody Hoyt

 

A Southpaw’s Year In Review

My, but this has been quite the year, hasn’t it? I realize a post of this nature may be premature–after all, there are two weeks until 2018; but I’m a stickler for breaking the norm, so sue me.

What is there to say about 2017? In terms of development for this blog, it was an important year. So many events happened that unexpectedly shaped the type of content I write, some of them tragic, and some of them lighthearted. All the same, though, they played a part in Thoughts of A Southpaw’s evolution, and I am glad to have been able to document them for the sake of my readers, be they weekly or occasional.

You understand, much of the time–I will admit, not all of the time–this blog is meant to help you guys think or cope or laugh, or smile a little on a bad day. It’s For the People, By the People, Of the Pe–okay…I’m getting a bit too Founding Father on this thing.

Let’s run over 2017’s Top 5 most popular posts, starting with–

  1. Small Town Losses (This was a heartfelt one for me, and a lot of other people. A tribute to a great person.)
  2. Meet My Cousin: William Shakespeare (I was genuinely surprised as to how much this post blew up. I was just fooling around one day, and–well, there you go…)
  3. Prom and Punch (Another surprise, but this one, I think, had some certified funny moments…maybe…)
  4. Sunshine Comes Around (Boy, this was a hard post to write, and I can only hope it helped some people get past their own dark moments in life; so, in that, I see this as one of my most important posts.)
  5. Graduate (A happy post that attracted a lot of attention on Facebook, which, again, surprised me. Three cheers for graduation, too!)

All of those posts I feel had a significant role in forming the current Thoughts of A Southpaw, as well as what it might become in future years. They each had their own tones and messages–even though it seems like a few have no messages whatsoever–and for that, I see them as unique on this blog, reflecting the perspectives of my readers.

Perspective. That’s a big thing I’ve learned. The views and tastes of my readers influence the output of this blog. It’s one of those things that always keeps the posting interesting; it brings something new every time.

What else have I learned? Things. Stuff. Nonsense.

I am still learning how to write an effective blog post, as I believe there is no one way to write anything, and we are all constantly refining our approaches towards a project.

Here, then, to 2017, a year of great changes and introspection. May there be many more years ahead as significant as this one, and may there be many more readers to experience them.

Together, we’ll see what 2018 has to offer…

As they say, though, C’est la vie, whatever will be, will be.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

 

I Am Becoming A Caffeine Addict (Also 150th Post, Dudes! Yeah! Cheers! Cowabunga!)

Yes, you read that right. I have officially written 150 of these things, most of them bad, some of them good; but the point of this milestone, you see, is that I have been able to write 150 posts because I have such a huge follower base.

Gee, I’m pretty sure we’re near 100 followers now, in total. Crazy stuff. Wouldn’t have anticipated it a year ago, but there are those things you can never sense until they’re right on top of you, am I right? Eh?

But, to the topic of this post, quite a serious one, if I may say so:

Caffeine Addiction.

I’ve been attending CAA meetings lately. For those who aren’t familiar with the acronym, it stands for Coffee Addicts Anonymous, maybe you haven’t heard it; and, honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. It’s situated out of my parent’s basement, so…small reception, heh.

I wasn’t always addicted to coffee, no, as a kid, I hated the crap. It tasted like black licorice combined with tar–although, that may have been due to my Dad’s preference for black coffee.

I’m more of a creamer man myself. That’s right, ladies. I’m buddy-buddy with Coffee-Mate.

The addiction started off harmless, like a Daddy Long Legs, then, it…oh, it’s difficult to say…it took over my mornings, filled my stomach, and–and, it made me have to use the little boy’s room quite a few more times than usual.

Oh, man, I need a breather. I can hardly talk about it without feeling the urge.

Quick, someone grab a liter of Prune Juice!

[One hour, and one big, big, big burp, later]

All right, we’re good now. I have quenched my thirst with the worst possible drink–oh, wait, that’s orange juice, duh.

We may now proceed with open questions from the audience:

How many, uh, coffee cups do you consume a day?

Tough question, pal. I’d have to say three…dozen.

What is your favorite type of coffee?

Whatever’s in the pot, babe; and, hey, shoot me your number. We’ll get together, have coffee.

How long is it going to take you to realize no one is actually asking questions?

No comment.

What a twat that guy was, huh? I made sure he was kicked out of the auditorium, so he’s not gonna be bothering us any longer. There are just no decent people anymore, ‘cept for you guys; you guys are cool.

Like coffee. Coffee’s cool, unless it’s hot.

Use that for your next pick-up line, guys. You can credit me later–with a check for 100 grand, addressed to Thoughts of A Southpaw; but, really, it’s no biggie.

Otherwise, keep it rocking, my people.

150 posts strong, and still rolling!

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

Photo Credit: Tumblr, I believe…

 

 

 

A Hundred Posts Already?

Wow.

Seriously, wow.

Words cannot express–

Actually, I shouldn’t ruin this moment by talking. Deep breath. There we go.

Well, it–it has been a ride, has it not? We’ve been through, what, eleven months now, and we are almost at the year anniversary. I won’t get too sobby, since I have a lot more to say on the year anniversary, but, I will say, I am so surprised.

I never thought this blog would pick up, become an actual facet of my life. When I first started, I was telling myself that a blog was a stupid way to spend my time–that it was taking away from my novel; however, as time went on, it weaved itself into something unexpected.

I do not believe I would have discovered my voice as fast, had it not been for Thoughts of A Southpaw, one of the things I look forward to most every Monday and Thursday. It has been a wild ride, I gotta tell ya. I’ve done things with all these words I never would have thought possible.

As I sit here at my laptop, hearing the rain patter against the basement window, I feel excited. Why, you ask. To be honest, I cannot wait until we reach 200, even 500 posts, not because it’s a big number, but because words can change people: it can affect them in ways invisible to the naked eye.

If people read these posts and laugh, or smile–or feel as if a connection sprang up spontaneously between them and this blog, then we have done those people, and the world, a great service, and there is little else we can do than smile along with them.

I would raise a beer, but I am not yet of the drinking age, so a Powerade will have to do.

Here’s to the future, and all the good it may bring us.

And here is to you guys, you who spend the time reading these posts and spreading their messages–even if those messages are angsty teenage emotions–and you who have stuck with Thoughts of A Southpaw through the splendid number of, say it with me, 100 posts.

That is incredible.

Thank you all so much.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Under Construction

A Southpaw here,

Recently in my postings I have come across an uncomfortable feeling, that of staleness and a little bit of boredom–a thing which should not be happening if I am to continue this blog.

I still love posting things. I still love writing on my schedule.

The thing is–something needs to change.

I don’t like becoming bored with this blog; hell, it was started because I thought it was fun. And I want to keep that enjoyment; and if it means switching things around on the ol’ Southpaw Industries, then I will gladly do so.

They won’t be major changes; no, not at all–what they will be is needed. I will probably make it more appealing–the front page has become a little bit of an eyesore, to me, and the posts will be varied…more so than they are now.

It’ll be fun!

I am sorry if these changes make any of you reconsider following me–they won’t be too big anyway–but, I see this as a way of improving content and shifting to a higher grade of whatever-the-hell-I’m-trying-to-pull-off-by-writing-these-things.

I would love to hear opinions, though; if you feel you up to it, speak your mind.

And keep chugging on that Thought Train.

Think daily,

A Southpaw