Years ago I created a website in tandem with a novel I’d written because, at the time, that’s what marketers advised. The site and book shared the same title, Ruining Sterner, and the website creation process was both enlightening and frustrating. But I had a small problem: Ruining Sterner was a terribly dull novel; worse, my protagonist, Bailey Sterner, was a first-class dud. The book fizzled–these days I claim it was an “experiment in plot continuity”–and the website sat idle.
I soon returned to it, however, but for a different reason: I wanted to teach myself the basics of coding in HTML, the language that drives all websites and e-books. As I did, I started writing and posting 500-word-ish essays from random thoughts and observations I’d made over many decades. I soon realized that the essays were much more interesting than Bailey Sterner would ever be. And they were short; I didn’t have to concern myself with “plot continuity.” I decided to post them live, one essay every month or so, and share the links with family and friends.
Somehow an audience grew, slowly and organically. People began to engage, writing thoughtful comments to what I’d shared, and to my surprise they also started subscribing to the site. I’d somehow touched a nerve–hopefully a good one–and began to wonder if my experiences and observations were theirs as well. Whether the essays contained even a hint of universality wasn’t the point; something was hiding within them that seemed to compel engagement.
I wrote about gains and losses, sorrows and joys, friendship and family. I wanted to focus on time and how it passes, on decades and how they seem to vanish so swiftly. I wanted to teach myself, in essay format, the fine art of “enjoying the passage of time,” as James Taylor sings in “The Secret O’ Life.” That I let the original website go defunct is unfortunate; that I’m at it again suggests I may still have something to share. But we’ll see.
So why “The Crooked Line” this time? The answer is straightforward: I wrote a song years ago called “The Long Crooked Line” (you can stream it free on Soundcloud) based on the notion that my life’s trajectory has always been governed by phantoms of randomness. From creation to now, that trajectory has taken numerous sudden turns at unexpected times, moving with fickle impermanence from event to event, age to (older) age. My journey–to use that tired phrase–has been like a stream searching for a river to empty into, or perhaps the river itself, twisting randomly at every bend.
In other words, if my life was produced as a line it would be spectacularly crooked, every arc a byproduct of absolute and beautiful randomness. Hence “The Crooked Line.”
So there it is. I welcome you to my new site. Join me if you’d like; let’s be curious enough to see where we leap first. Perhaps we can renew the connection we had with “Ruining Sterner” (the website, certainly not the book). We may even find new connections as we move on. But we’ll see.
Rick
The Long Crooked Line
Open the window, open the door;
let’s let the moon dance across the floor.
It’s a long crooked line,
and nothing more.
When I’m beside you, I’m like a stone;
we’re in the slow lane, just walkin’ home.
It’s too long a crooked line
to walk alone.
Sometimes the wind blows,
sometimes it rains;
but when it’s cold outside,
I call your name.
Out past the treetops, a river flows;
how long it’s been there, nobody knows.
And like a long, crooked line,
away it goes.
Sometimes the wind blows,
sometimes it rains;
but when it’s cold outside,
I call your name.
