Growing fond

My grandfather used to say that the hardest thing to do is be simple. Simplicity - simple - has a negative connotation. It means plain, dumbed-down, vanilla-flavored.

I'll say it. It's wrong.

It was a greater man who once said Simplicity, Simplicity, Simplicity. A cleverly constructed edifice that exemplifies what I'm trying to say.

And all this time I've held parallel dreams. In one I'm in control, pressed suit, corporate corner office with the view. In the other I go live in a place like Walden or a la Bryson - the Appalachian Trail.

The juxtaposition of the two derives mainly from the word - simple(icity).

I've been accused of being a complicated writer. The connections often times appear straightforward in the jambalaya of my mind(s). A little moo cow once inspired me to write like I do. I don't sign my name with an Asterisk like Vonnegut or write in post-perfection. My writing is in retrospection.

For me the Kevin Bacon number is not just for actors. Everything is connected (and illuminated according to some accounts). Described as the butterfly effect, the common thread, the eternal golden braid. It's simple really.

Given, 3.14XXXX is a recurring occurrence in nature. Understanding the relativity of time and the curvature of space is not simple. Solipsist thought is unnatural - complicated.

The thought of an electron popping in and out of existence around it's parental atom is...difficult.

All I want is to keep it simple, stupid.

KISS.