I’ve never been much of a journal writer. Things happen to me that happen to everyone else. Big deal. I’m sure I could deliver my unique perspective on my “adventure” spent sitting at the car dealer waiting for my tire rotations and oil change watching the television mounted on the wall that is broadcasting whatever insipid tripe that passes for morning talk shows these days.
See? That’s a tale all on its own, but hardly engaging and even less of an adventure. Besides, I don’t spend hours of every day doing normal things that everyone else does. Those are isolated incidents. Take today, for instance: grocery shopping. Yay. Not the stuff of intriguing prose.
In any case, this post is just a post about why I don’t obsessively post; I’m usually working on something else. When I come up with something, which will often be fiction, I’ll publish it on my Substack page, though I do have a short bit on writing and a review for a Sci-fi movie that’s over 10 years old that I had just seen at the time of the review.
That’s all I got this time.
R.B. Ray 