This is one of those “Rus Uncut” posts.
Actually, I’ve been throwing the idea around for some time to drop the formalities and the anxieties that come with it. My best words on this blog are when I’m less formal, more “real,” and just trying to sort through a few things.
Like we’re in a cafe or something. Sitting across from each other, allowing the warmth of a mug to flow through our chilly hands and give us a reason to be still, to hold each other’s gaze as the buzz of the space bustles familiarity brewed with a touch of anonymity.
Like that.
I left social media (again). Friends say I’ll be back, but I won’t. Not this time. I just can’t anymore. Can’t be a part of that machine. Anyway, I have 101 lit crit essays coming in tomorrow, and another 60 or so opinion essays the next week.
Trust me. It’s not like I’m going to be bored, wondering what in the world to do with my time.
I’d much rather spend it here with you, if we’re going to be honest. There are fewer expectations with this space. Maybe that’s because I’ve never gotten a whole lotta traffic and tread here, except when I wrote that open letter to the Baltimore Orioles a while back. Now that had some traction.
No. I’m happy to write here, openly and honestly, with – and I mean this – no expectations. Not worried about likes or shares. But if you do happen to leave a comment, I’m sure to reply. We can be back in that cafe, holding those mugs of coffee, gazing and smiling and understanding and sometimes not even saying anything.
Conversation. That’s what I’ve been preaching lately in my classroom, too. The need for us to stop shutting up others, but to listen, and contribute, and share, and listen some more. Sip that coffee. Nod. Smile. Give me a “Yes,” a “I hear you,” and some aside about what you can hear beyond the words.
That kind of conversation.
Here’s what else I’m no longer doing here. I’m not worried about adding links. Or photos. Or graphics. Or keywords. Or categories.
But your SEO! Don’t you want your posts to go viral?
Um. No thanks.
The cafe’s not big enough, anyway.
I’m happy with you sitting across from me, with your warm hands and smiling heart, reminding me that it is never about the spit and shine – it’s about authenticity that rises between the words, captured in the brilliance of silence, the lingering, soft-blinking hue of hazel, or even three shades shy of sapphire.
Because here, there’s nothing but conversation, whether we have anything to say or not.

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