from the bottom of the roiling pond

As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, the previous name of this blog had nothing to do with the content.  It was just a nod to a type of wordplay that I enjoy.  I think that many disappointed web searchers arrived at the site as a result.  The new name is actually an old one, the title of an essay I wrote many years ago.  It’s about a common thing that happens between people:  you bond through shared experience, but as the vaporous passion and overstimulation of youth burn away over the slow dull coals of maturity, you perceive the true tenuous nature of that bond.  Either what we need from other people changes as we grow older, or it just takes us awhile to figure out what we needed in the first place.  Then again, with human beings it is rarely a matter of one option or another.  Sometimes other people simply stop giving us what we need, either consciously or unconsciously.  Or we tire of seeking it out from them, realizing we’d sooner squeeze blood from a stone.  I suppose that, in the end, it’s usually a blurry blend of all of the above.  Often when I look around and try to figure out what’s going on in the world, it’s like I’m peering through a jar of cloudy pond water.  I see signs of life and movement, but what it all points toward is beyond me.

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