Wel, Come On In...

Welcome - I like words. I love language.

You will quickly understand this about me should you visit often. I adore the way words become speech become language... The way they roll from my tongue/lips and into Meaning, a dangerous terrain indeed. How every word is a house of many rooms with different implications and timed desires. Masquerading sweetly in ink or pixel.

For example, welcome - the background noisy-ness of the word, the diffident bragging, the overconfident issued command - truly a word to battle other words for right of way! Wel, Come. As in, I could take you or leave you, but now I take and call it cordial.

But why this play with words? Why here at all? The Point?

Because:

The costs of some types of public speech are too high. But the costs of charged silence, apparently low, accrue interest rapidly.
Reflection - visual or mental - does not ensure understanding.
Often the ones closest are least likely to understand.
Everyone needs their "Hard Harry," even little colored girls.
Your truth is real though all call it false.
Your experience valid though all call it perception.
Your days are tactile though all see you as without feeling.

Ultimately, because the consistent Denial from without can drive you so deeply within yourself that the only thing to be done is repeatedly explode - and this is my blast radius. My mine field. My failed bomb squad attempt. The disastrous power-sharing negotiations following a thousandth coup attempt.

And So, The Tinted Vent, a space of Color to trouble Black & White ideas - proposing warm Color as an alternate to... the Nothing.