Empty House

This blog is my homepage. That means every time I log onto the internet, this is what I see first. Usually I click through as fast as I can, off to one of my links... Drudge Report, The Cheese Aisle or Boudicca's Voice. It makes me sad to see it sit, but it's been hard to restart and reset. The political climate in this country has me stressed to the point that my last post was a rant of such violent vitriol that someone who cares about me asked me to take it down. Sad part is, after I did, I realized she was right.

My 100 word muse seems to have stayed in Texas without me. My day to days seem to be unremarkable, even to me, I've been to four of five Pirate games, but can't even seem to bring myself to do game day reports... So, here it sits.

I think about some of the blogs that I loved so well that now sit idle.

For example: Bellerophon Chimera, who took a break and never returned, nothing to be done about it and Gut Rumbles, that went dark when Acidman was taken from us long before we were ready.

At least someone tried to keep Gut rumbles alive after Rob died, but it was an exercise in futility.

They sit like empty houses... structurally intact, but lifeless. I can go by, and look in the windows, but the words and thoughts are the same as the last time I looked, gathering dust and cobwebs in the form of spam in the comments... Even were I to open the door and walk through, the absence of the owners is palatable. My footsteps echoing through the old posts and any comments left are as useless as whispering to myself.

I don't want that to happen here, but I seem powerless to prevent it.

Several people have told me that when they see a girl with a tattoo they think of me. Some miss my stories. Some just wonder what happened to me.

When I click through, I hear this Tom Waits song in my head and it makes me sad.

There's a house on my block
That's abandoned and cold
Folks moved out of it a
Long time ago
And they took all their things
And they never came back
Looks like it's haunted
With the windows all cracked
And everyone call it
The house, the house where
Nobody lives

Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone's heart break
Or did someone do somebody wrong?

Well the paint was all cracked
It was peeled off of the wood
Papers were stacked on the porch
Where I stood
And the weeds had grown up
Just as high as the door
There were birds in the chimney
And an old chest of drawers
Looks like no one will ever
Come back to the
House were nobody lives

Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone's heart break
Or did someone do someone wrong?
So if you find someone
Someone to have, someone to hold
Don't trade it for silver
Don't trade it for gold
I have all of life's treasures
And they are fine and they are good
They remind me that houses
Are just made of wood
What makes a house grand
Ain't the roof or the doors
If there's love in a house
It's a palace for sure
Without love...
It ain't nothin but a house
A house where nobody lives
Without love it ain't nothin
But a house, a house where
Nobody lives.