On the Road to 100, What I’ve Learned and What I Still Have to Learn on This Side of the Proverbial Wormhole of Existence

Wow. I wonder if that wins the award for my longest title ever. Survey says? Not even close. Thank you Richard Dawson! Please, don’t kiss me. Wait. What? Richard Dawson is dead? Oh my God. He died in 2012 (thanks Wikipedia; mind the gap). Figures. I haven’t even thought of him since I wrote about him, so long ago in Random Musings Version 1.0. I guess him kissing me is not a concern any longer, huh? Cool. Insert sigh of relief HERE. Now I can focus on the business at hand. Which is…

Drum roll PLEASE…

Blog Entry Number 100! Yay! We made it! You, me, Pinky Lee, Rizzo, Kenickie and everyone else that has had or will have a featured role in blog entries past/this blog entry. It’s been a long and winding road to get to this point, and I can think of a number of people to thank. Even Dennis Rodman who–fun fact–was the featured topic of one of my lesser read pieces of Mental Flatulence, “In Which I Abruptly Break from Writing CHILDREN OF ENDWORLD to Discuss a Topic of International Importance.” I tried to look up the stats on that one and couldn’t, but if I remember correctly, it was around 10. Yes, 10. No, not 10 visitors. 10 views. And two or three of them were likely me. It just goes to show how relevant Dennis Rodman was back in 2016, huh? I honestly don’t think it’s changed much in the intervening time since. If anything, he’s even less relevant now. I could argue the same about myself but… ah sh*t. I digress. Crap, when do I ever not?

Since I’m a bit of a stat guy, here’s a couple. Mind you, these are the stats for Random Musings 2.0. I am unable to view my pre-2.0 stats, i.e. my 1.0 stats though for the record, those blog entries/pieces of Mental Flatulence WERE imported to this site, shortly after I made the change and hence would count toward my total views, vistors etc..  So? Ah, screw it. Let’s just count ’em all together. I can’t imagine that 1.0 got a ton of traffic pre-Wordpress anyway.

Random Musings Version 1.0 and 2.0, since 2012:

Views: 6,353
Visitors: 4,313
Best [Daily] Views Ever: November 3, 2016; 546 (“Remembering the Mayor of Maple Street”)
Most Popular Day: Tuesday; 45% of all views
Most Popular Time: 7PM; 29% of all views
Total WordPress Followers: 75

Survey says? Not uber-impressive by any standard though it warms my heart, to this day to see how much interest “Remembering the Mayor of Maple Street” had early on and has had in the time since. That one came from the heart, guys and gals. The best I could do to eulogize, in my own way, a giant among men. Thank you for reading it. And thank you for reading… well sh*t, everything I’ve written on here. Even the one about Dennis Rodman. All 10 of you. Views. Not visitors. God Bless.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this previously but it bears repeating herein: Writing, for me, was never about fame. It wasn’t about fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory. If that came with it great. But it’s just… it’s simple, really. It’s something I like to do. I always have and hopefully always will. Writing was always about speaking my mind and saying what I needed to say when I was afraid to say it aloud. About telling a story. Whether people agreed with me or not, and more than a few of you disagreed with me over the years. The one about Charlie Brown growing up and the one about “Dora the Explorer: A J. J. Abrams Film” were especially polarizing. Thanks for never being afraid to call me out. Booyakasha. Respect.

People over the years have asked me “why?” Why write? Why keep at it when you have no way of knowing for sure whether you’ll ever achieve anything more than a localized, social media-driven following, along with a semi-fervent Endworld fan base in, of all places, Central America? The answer to that question is relatively simple, and it’s been the same, every time someone has asked me it. Why? In the immortal words of Jane’s Addiction, “Just Because.” Just because. Because if I can speak to one person… if I can write something that affects a single soul on this, or any side of the proverbial wormhole of existence then in my eyes? I’ve done my job. I’ve succeeded. Sure, I’d love to be the guy or girl that gets to write for a living, but maybe… just maybe that’s not in the cards for me, AKA El Autoro, AKA your old buddy the Madchronicler. And if it’s not? If this blog, and my completed two novels in The Endworld Series—along with the barely started third—are my legacy then so be it. Fates be kind. I hope y’all have enjoyed the ride ‘cause I sure as sh*t have.

All that said, I hope to continue this ride with you for many, many years to come. Honestly? There was a part of me that considered ending Random Musings with this blog entry. I even discussed it with someone I recently re-connected with a few weeks ago. Their question? “Why?” Why stop? What point save for a symbolic one would stopping serve? I couldn’t answer them then, but I can now. Why? What point? In short: None. Like Miley Cyrus I can’t and won’t stop because these trite, long-form brain farts that I classed up with the phrase Mental Flatulence many, many moons ago when I, my friends and family all lived in and around J-Town, Oz and/or State Pen and no one lived anyplace else are as much a part of me as Endworld is.

Many of you reading this right now know me. You know that I’ve always been a guy that wears his heart on his sleeve. I guess you could… you can argue that I further wear my words on my sleeve. Sleeves. Plural. Because I’ve written a lot. A veritable sh*t ton of material, honestly, not all of which you’ve seen and not all of which will see the light of day before I shuffle off this mortal coil many, many moons from now God willing. And at it’s core everything that I’ve ever written has been a reflection of some aspect of me. The person I was. The person I am. The person I want to be. The ideal I dream of. The hero I wish I was in the case of William MacNuff. So? If you tuned out a long time ago like 75% of The Walking Dead’s audience (not me, though; I remain invested and Godd*mn! Aren’t the Whispererers, specifically Beta bada**?) and just popped back over to see what I’ve been up to for 99, now 100 blog posts you should probably look away. Look away NOW. Because this isn’t the end. It’s an end, but not the end. Random Musings of a Pseudo-Madman Version 3.0? Perhaps. To go along with Frank Marsh Version 3.0. Survey says? Sure! Why the f*ck not?

Yeah. I guess a reboot of sorts is in order, isn’t it? I think I’ll stay here, though: I’ve kind of gotten used to this URL (though I have to figure out how to get that 2.0 out of it and replace it with a 3.0). Random Musings Version 3.0, otherwise known as yet another attempt by me, one of a number of sh*theads living on this side of the proverbial wormhole of existence (the world is still full of them, ya’ know; sh*theads, not wormholes) to make sense of an oft times screwed up universe in his… in my own, occasionally self-reflective way. Because let’s face it, everyone: The universe is inherently f*cked up. It doesn’t matter which side of the wormhole you live on, or what you believe or whether you’ve been reading my ramblings for the last seven to 10 years or you just started reading now. The bottom line is that it’s virtually impossible to make sense out of chaos. Senselessness. And yet despite how it appears on the surface at it’s core, I have always believed and will always believe that there is an underlying beauty to the universe on this, or any side of the proverbial wormhole of existence. Call it God if you want. A representation of the infinite in any number of spiritual creeds. The All as they call it in Endworld. It’s there. It’s something. There is order beneath the madness and that, friends? That’s what I sought out many, many years ago when I started writing and it’s still what I’m looking for now, at 43 plus years old. Maybe this is the way I find it. Maybe you get to find it with me. Who knows? If you find it before me, though, please let me know. A simple phone call, text message, PM or email will suffice. I really appreciate it.

Which sadly (sad for me; you might be thanking the almighty right now and if you are, it’s cool) brings me to the end of Blog Entry Number 100 which, if I look back over the road that got me here, is really exactly what it should be. No fanfare. More a whisper than a scream. More retrospection and reflection. A little bullsh*t. A touch of Richard Dawson and Dennis Rodman, a sprinkle of Miley Cyrus and a well-remembered, and always loved Mayor of Maple Street. A sh*thead here and a sh*thead there, a wormhole, an alternate reality or two, some stuff about Endworld and me, the former El Autoro turned Madchronicler ruminating on life, the universe and everything because if I don’t write it and do it internally, my brain will explode. Being known as the guy who thought too hard and blew up his brain? Not the kind of fortune and glory, kid, fortune and glory that I’m looking for.

One thing I did want to do before calling it quits on my first 100 blog entries, though, was look back on the first one. Yeah, that one. From Random Musings Version 1.0. The one that started this big a** boulder rolling. The title was “I guess in a way, you always end up right back where you started.” Back then, I was 33 years old. I was toiling away at a little company called Advanced Fluid Systems in Royersford, PA. I was married and a homeowner with two “furry children named Pandora and Roxy” and I was anticipating the arrival of my first, human child. Nicole and I had decided to name her Cara Angelina Marsh. Cara for “beloved” (in Italian) and “friend” (in Irish), and Angelina for it’s Italian meaning—“angel”—and Nicole’s then-94 year old grandmother. “Beloved Angel.” It wasn’t much of a composition—nothing monumental—but looking back on it now—after so much “life, man, life”—I see what it was. What it did. It was a beginning. The first concrete thing I had written in a very, very long time. The rewritten ENDWORLD – A NOVEL evolved from it. CHILDREN, as well. The soon-to-be rewritten HEAVEN. A handful of short stories and other, started but not completed novels and novellas. And now 99 others pieces of Mental Flatulence. Not only was it a beginning. Looking back now, I think that it was THE beginning. And that, guys and gals? That makes me smile. ‘Cause here I am now, 10 years later, after so much has changed and I’m still doing it. Exactly what I always wanted to do. A little bit for me but mainly? For you. Always you.

All of you. And You? Yeah, you. You too.

Winky emoticon. Smiley face. And thank you. Always.

Frank Marsh

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