Looking for an open door

Sometimes you just hold out hope that something has not gone away forever. Sometimes I’ll drive by a place I love but haven’t visited in a while just to make sure they still have the lights on. One of my strange quirks.

I even do this with blogs. Sometimes people just up and disappear from Blog Land, and if their writing has come to inspire you, well, tough luck. So I occasionally swing by to read what people write and just check to see if they are still there. Blogging is fickle, and while it can be permanently stored in computer format, it’s very disposable. If you find any kind of permanence, and write daily and what not, I applaud you. And then there’s the rare occasion when you read blogs and you feel as if you are getting a glimpse into something very special, not just they typical daily drivel (myself included.) Ryan Adams’ blog was that kind of thing. It seemed as if all the concentrated art that’s in his head was exploding into his blog. It was still daily drivel, but very interesting drivel. Not in a celebrity, “oh-my-gosh” kind of way, but in a commiserating, human way. Good days or bad, he was blogging. He’s a redemption song. Someone who woke up from a drug-induced haze and decided it wasn’t worth it; now living clean and readjusting himself to deal with his issues in a more constructive way. Call me sappy, a sucker for a good story, or whatever, but I can’t stand to see anyone with that much artistic capability go to waste. I loved reading his blog, and then one day it was hijacked/hacked/removed (Lord only knows what actually…Ryan probably did himself for all we know.) Sad days.

Let me just say that I was pleased as punch when I clicked on his site today, making my usual blog rounds, and saw that he is back in action. Welcome back Ryan!


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2 responses to “Looking for an open door

  1. I’ve started deleting from my “List” who do not post…it’s too sad to see their little names and nothing behind it—

  2. Deborah Nelson

    Wonderfully written. I am amazed at your giftedness. It makes me glad. This is said as another person, not your mother. 🙂

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