Category: Burningbird

AKMA wrote on authenticity and referenced me in his work. He wrote:

Or to put it another way (because I admire Shelley, and I want to share out my links), if we were to find out that the Burning Bird’s phoenix-song were very carefully composed, to convey the effect of having been written by someone very much like the Shelley we imagine when we read her heartfelt, sometimes very pointed, clarion-calls — would that be inauthentic? What degree of deliberation and painstaking composition disqualify a recording or literary work from the category of “authenticirty”? A brilliantly gifted writer, after all, may well be able to depict impassioned spontaneity with utterly convincing prose. Is it only authentic if she really felt it?

I am honored that AKMA included me, as I have always admired him tremendously. His writing is like a mirror with which to see oneself and decide if what we see is really what we want to continue seeing.

Is it only authentic if she really felt it. Such depth hidden in simple words. How do we answer? How do I answer?

I do enjoy writing about technology, and yes I am an impassioned warrier for openness among our peers, and equality among our ranks. I’m not afraid to go toe to toe, and have made friends, and lost them, doing so. I am passionate; there is no fakery there–no practiced art of writing in order to deceive. I believe, with all my heart, in the cause for women, gay rights, and the struggle to save what little we can of the environment.

I reject that we are seen, too frequently, as either a commodity to be sold; or a patsy to buy what others are selling.

I like debate, and though I am not fireproof, can usually stand the heat. More so now than in the past, but that’s because I’ve become somewhat tempered these last few years. I like to think I am even and just and though I will blast the tiger to save the kitten, I will swat the kitten when its greedy.

I know, though, that I have also hurt in my single minded pursuit of rightness. I have been thoughtless. I have been too quick to temper. And I have been vain.

Is this writing authentic? Is it, as the dictionary would claim, real and genuine? Yes, because I don’t write what I don’t believe–that depth of feeling that AKMA references.

No, though, because it is not complete.

This is an environment composed almost exclusively of words. They may be written, they may be spoken, and they might even be converted into images or code and thus need to be interpreted, but ultimately this is about words.

Some of the words I like, others I don’t. Some of the words may incite me to anger and despair, while others inspire and entertain. I have changed my mind based on words; I may have even changed minds with words of my own.

There are people who can wield words like a master painter his brush, or play words like a concert pianist her piano. The rest of us, we’re usually happy if we can write a post without someone pointing out spelling errors. Oh, and don’t get me started on punctuation and something or other dangling.

I have written words that have sparked a frenzy of feeding and I think wistfully of Amazonian rivers and small, busy fish with very sharp teeth. Other times, the words lay there on the page, not even a quiver of regret to mark their passing. (And one is never so glad, at times like these, to see the reverse chronology in action. I have been known, a time or two, to hasten the end of such words–a mercy killing, if you will.)

I’ve also had my words thrown in my face, slapped across my cheeks like a glove beckoning me to a duel. Sometimes I’ve picked up the sharpest of my words and have cried, “Have at ye!” Other times, though, I wander, confused, through the jumble of scratches on the page and think at it, “What did you do? What the hell did you do?”

My favorite words are the the ones we skip across the page like a rock across a pond; only exposing our selves when the word is in the air. Ha! Try reading these words through an aggregator.

I never tire of working with words. I never tire of reading others work with words. I do weary, though, of reading, “Oh, but I didn’t mean that…” when one is challenged, because its easier to orphan the words than acknowledge or stand by them.