The Road Not Taken

Thought for the Day

"Don't close your eyes lest they close your mind"– Big Sue the Cowgirl scamming the slots out the back of Ray's Thunderdome, Knotweed.

The title of this post comes from a Robert Frost poem resonant with the knowledge that choices often, if not always, define our lives. It is both simple and beguiling. Once we have realised the young speaks to the old in the poem, we understand the earnest yearning to the stanzas.

It's starting point shows how the young complicate their urge to take to the road with just a little yearning for the road travelled better and fairer to the footsteps. And so, the young man speaks to his older self with an inkling of what they will tell him once the lesser travelled road brings the young man home.

This website needs a rationale because, let's face it, no one gives a shit until you make them. That's the tricky part, you see. People make others give a shit once they streamline their talents into a marketable brand. One built on their status as an outlier, an educator, or by being just plain obnoxious.

Delving deeper into this murky world of personal branding appears to be the only way. I will be my own worst making–or not. So, to whoever is reading this post, it is pleasing to make your acquaintance. I'm Jericho Samuels.

Or, to some, Jericho the Younger–mainly those who chuck dog muck at passing ambulances from the back of Tingle Park. Now, don't get me wrong. I am no nihilist. It's more ineptitude than complete insouciance that stands in my way.

I hope to blend storytelling through different mediums, sometimes at once, to keep my creativity alive and kicking. I am doing my darnedest to produce writing that doesn't reduce one to tears (of boredom instead of tugging at the heartstrings with a rusty meathook) and compose music that doesn't make the ears bleed.

This website and its affiliated channels will catalogue my failures and successes. I see it as this: I will be the work-in-progress you're scared to be because you fear judgement after putting yourself out there.

A work-in-progress that isn't a complete picture. Like the picture on a puzzle with a few pieces stuck behind the sofa, the fish tank, and one hiding in plain sight by the TV.

I can't profess to be a great thinker or to be pushing sounds beyond their limits. But I will give my heart to whatever this is before the AI takes over and we all end up daemons to our own amygdalas.

Anyway, peace.