I am not a reader. But I will herein attempt to tell it as I see it, as is the banal and fruitless pursuit of so many blind fools before me, and, as I am sure, since. Being blind, I can only be accountable to a loose description of those patterns that dance on the back of my eyeballs in the darkness. And furthermore, I am slave to a dark and ancient series of chemical reactions and can promise no more validity to anything I write than Moses could promise the children of Israel. God's promises, I will say, are those that withstand the test of time. I may write some down by accident, but don't quote me on it. I am from the South. That is worth mentioning because being Southern is a complicated and glorious burden to bear in these modern times. A burden I bear with pride. And it is by this burden I write to you now, knowing full well the implications of place, the sacredness of it. It is also where our stories begin. I was born in Memphis, Tennessee. This is a hidden place. It is on the map, but some great voodoo has affixed its eye on Memphis, and is churning up soul, and the cloud of cotton fields and slash pines and soybeans hide it from all but whom she chooses to see, and once you go there you are very lucky if you are not drawn back, and each time changed. Some never get out. But God granted I should be born there, and I am thankful for it. So these posts will be tainted what by my upbringin, and my blood and my place.