In 1993, Billy Joel released The River of Dreams, an album I listened to throughout my sophomore year in high school. I would still rank it as one of my all-time favorites for several reasons. For one, the songs are simultaneously catchy but also meaningful (check out No Man's Land, a withering critique of urban sprawl, vacuous entertainment, and consumerism that is still frighteningly relevant twenty-seven years later). For another, the album as a whole, with the songs arranged in the order they were written, is a fascinating psychological journey of person moving from a place of profound anger at personal and societal issues to a state of acceptance and reflection. (Side note: As someone who spent a fair bit of his high school career feeling angry, seeing an example of a person capable of making that transition meant more than just listening to another set of tunes.) In the final song, Famous Last Words, Joel hints that he has reached the end of what he can say through the rock and roll medium: "And these are the last words I have to say / It's always hard to say goodbye / But now it's time to put this book away / Ain't that the story of my life?" While he continues to tour occasionally and has released the odd song here and there, for the most part it seems like The River of Dreams album really does represent the last words Joel has to say and he's remained true to his pledge.
I can't.
About two years ago, I posted what I advertised as my final blog. I had just accepted a new job and my family and I were moving to a new city, so the prospect of finding time to continue the blog seemed difficult. Plus, for whatever reason, it just felt like I had reached a conclusion with what I wanted to say. I thought those were my last words.
I was wrong.
Over time, especially the last few months, I've felt a certain pressure building up. At first I couldn't really figure out how to conceptualize it, until very recently as I was reading Hemingway's short story "Fathers and Sons." In that story, Hemingway recounts some of the personal travails of Nick Adams, a recurring character who is most likely a stand-in for the author himself. At one point, Hemingway writes about Adams and those travails in this way: "If he wrote it, he could get rid of it. He had gotten rid of many things by writing them." When I read those words, I had to close the book, set it down, and sit with my eyes closed for a moment. That was the answer. I have things to get rid of.
Now, I don't mean that in quite the same sense as Hemingway, but nevertheless, I've come to realize that what I've been missing is the outlet of writing. So, starting now, Forest Dweller Thoughts is back. To re-inaugurate the blog, here's the first photo I ever used for it, to symbolize our return into the woods, as it were.
