JUST BETWEEN US or AS WE GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER

Intimacy. I am going to be intimate. Again. I have no reservations about being intimate. Verbally. Verbal intimacy, or rather, in this case, more like epistolic intimacy. Being intimate, for me, has always been, by and large, a facet, among many, of my nature. Oh and commas. ,,,,,,,,,,,. Some people, always to my naive disbelief, become very uncomfortable when I am intimate. Verbally and epistolically. Neologisms are also a specialty of mine: Ne·ol·o·gism [nee-ol-uh-jiz-uhm]-noun a new word, meaning, usage, or phrase; the introduction or use of new words or new senses of existing words.
      Quite simply, I advise you to run amongst yourselves to the hills of the uncomfortable, uncommunicative, non-intimates if that be your personal handling of reading, hearing, seeing things intimate. I say GO! Or, perhaps you are in the closet with intimacy; a closet-intimate-peeping tom peeping clandestinely and concealing your identification. If you indeed prefer intimacy, but only hush-hush, I say "KNOCK YOURSELF OUT." 
       This here is a prelude to my autobiographically uncomfortable and intimately revealing portrait of my life. Past. Present. And, at times, glimpses into my not-yet-existing future. I have added, way at the bottom of my blog, Prolokiev's musical score "Peter and the Wolf." I have found this piece of instrumentation appropriate for the soundtrack of my autobiographical pieces. I insist you play it, even if just once, while reading something I have written, blatantly about myself, For instance: "The Swamp: A Nice Town" pairs up perfectly with this musical selection. You might even be interested to know that I also invent monologues accompanied with sound and have already tailored this piece by Prolokiev to suit the aura of my not-yet-finished monologue. But, later....later.
       I must also give you a heads up on a condition, congenital, that I have. It is a condition opposite to a saying you may be familiar with called "RESTRAINT OF PEN AND TONGUE." First of all, when my pen starts writing, or my fingers start typing, I cannot control them. This is not a fault. It is a condition. Conditions are more forgivable than faults. I did not intend my condition. No one intends conditions. Faults are strictly a result of bad conscious choices or endeavors. 
       Tact is an art-form. I can perfect it as an actor perfects that which he or she is not (if they are genuine good quality actors). But, it is unnatural to me and naturally I have not been graced in my nature with the art of tact. Also, I am not a starving writer. But, I cannot afford lids. Therefore, I cannot put a lid on IT. I do, however, accept donations (via email) in order that I can afford a lid. If you feel so inclined to suggest I "PUT A LID ON IT" my email address is: awfullyloud@ymail.com. This suggestion, I'm afraid, will cost you. At your expense it may be well worth the cost. 
        Sadly, I live in a capitalist society. Sadly, I cannot escape the curse of capitalism under the condition that I live in a capitalist society. I am a capitalist. Most do not like to admit this. Especially if their political slant be ideally slanted or immersed in the leftist-left-leftiest-left-wing-liberal philosophy. My sense of direction is terminally amuck. I know neither left from right or right from left. I find truth, not much so, in either direction. Being terminally deficient of direction, I tend towards that of truth. This, however, is more burdensome than my terminally amuck sense of direction. 
         The truth hides. It hides in the arena of neither left nor right. It is a son-of-a-bitch to pin down. When I seek truth it usually involves a search requiring a pack of rations suited for the length of time it takes to go fishing for truth. Truth is tricky. It hides between the lines. It is many, many, eons underwater and rubbish. Sometimes, I admit, I fail to find truth because I am not much of a scuba-diver and there is only so much I can take of digging through rubbish. Sometimes, as a result of searching for the truth, I collapse,,,,,,,,,,,,exhausted. I end up bedridden for days. I get nothing done. Therefore, in my case, personal conquest supersedes the search for truth. My personal conquest without a lid.
          Lastly, at last, and I am sure you are already exhausted with this "JUST BETWEEN US" business, I must discuss with you my HIBERNATION PERIODS. There will be times when my blog is overflowing with a deluge of posts (s) (s) (s). These deluges can exist over a period of one day, days, weeks.....and then....nothing. Why nothing? Has she thrown in the towel? Has she abandoned the written word altogether? Common questions concerning nothing. Never. I ask you. Never fear. My lack of output may, like the temperamental deluges, last a day, a week, rarely a month, but, sometimes, yes. I can assure you that when this happens, it is only temporary. Circumstantial. Circumstances that fall under the power of nature. Hibernation is quite natural. It is not a thing restricted to the lives of bears. The difference between me hibernating and a bear hibernating is this: during my hibernations many supernatural and cerebral metamorphoses are taking place. My body becomes inert. My physical and physiological composition goes into survival mode. When my mental faculties are in overdrive, my physical faculties react best by shutting down in order that my mental overdrive be supplied with all the energy it needs to keep from overheating and/or erupting. A simple translation: my body shuts down so that the neurons in my brain that control my body can limit their focus to keeping my head from blowing off. Multi-tasking neurons under stress can result in permanent damage and/or death. This may sound to you abominable, but it is actually very pragmatic. A scientific phenomenon. It makes absolute sense. If I did not hibernate every now and then I would become handicapped forever with nonproductivity. Always, the magic that occurs during my hibernations will be revealed to you. When I return. Inevitably. 

     So. I think I have acquainted myself well enough with you. I have found that I benefit more if my audience has a critical understanding of who I am and why and how and whatever and what not. Then, when the shit starts pouring out, intimately, violently, beautifully, sadly, or stops pouring temporarily...........................No apologies. I must go now. Part II of "The Swamp: A Nice Town" is calling my attention. Adieu.