where am I ? Who am I ?!

Posted on July 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

(picture of my father’s old Ford, parked on Deemer Road, at gate to old Taylor farm, now flattened into time past)

“Bubba shot the jukebox…
    (played a sad song, made me cry)”

Memory, as reckless, and/or sad as it may be, is the only time machine we have. The South is about nothing if not those two things as well as a melancholic redemption from both of them when necessary.  Some of our friends in Atlanta reacted in disbelief when informed of our decision to move to Mississippi for a while. The notoriety of its recklessness (at least in memory) far exceeds the reality of the here and now. And while the rest of the country seems to rocketing into the future with inceasing speed (for better or worsr), the hamlets of Mississippi seem to content to cope with where they are in the best way they can…even allowing a little grass growing beneath the feet.

So I guess there will be a little grass growing underneath this blog also . (and those who know me can be relieved–or disappointed as the case may be–that there will not be much in the way of French poststructuralism or German phenomenology…though it might take a theological turn now and again. You wouldn’t begrudge me that would you….after all we’re in Mississippi for God’s sake?! (It still seems to be as ‘Christ saturated’ as the saying went a while back. It’s also reflected in Faulkner’s observation that “Chirstianity is just there, whether I believe or don’t believe”, seeming to echo Walter Benjamin’s words: “‘My thinking is connected to theology like the ink-blotter to ink. … But if it were up to the blotter, nothing that has been written would remain” ) I remember vividly my grandfather pouring over the bible in the living room here—and sneaking a peak at American Bandstand on the old TV in the corner of he room. As you can tell already there will perhaps be more sepia-toned elegiac here than gazing into the void of the contemporary. It’s easier to see for one thing. And too, Sloane will be blogging on  a variety of things Mississippian, having taken to the state in a big way.