If there’s one thing that flips my script, it’s someone harshing my mellow. In my last love thing, it happened just like that. She wrote a blog post in which she used the phrase (Harsh my mellow) in a curiously sardonic fashion. Curious because she knew it was my Zen place and yet she found it necessary to peddle the shit in an impudent middle finger to me. Sure, the gesture was little more than a passive/aggressive jab, but to me it was kryptonite on a platter. It wasn’t the reason for our Waterloo, just a sign that we had already set sail for the place.
So when I complain about the Block editor, it’s because the thing harshes a mellow I struggle to hold onto every single day. I understand this makes me cranky and temperamental and maybe even unreasonable to the dynamics of a relationship, in this case, writing. Thing is, why is it wrong to hold to such a thing? Why should I feel like I’m the one at fault for simply crushing on a method and wanting to keep it status quo?
The status quo is a vastly underrated neighborhood. It gets the shit beaten out of it by progress only because technology is changing the world every couple months. Adapting means you either get down with the next gen sexy or you find yourself staying home on Saturday night. And that’s cool, to a point.
But to paraphrase a Billy Joel standard, as it pertains to Block Editor, don’t go changing to try and fleece me, When the website mavens from San Fran felt like it was time to banish the old in favor of a brand spanking new ride, they shouldn’t make peeps feel old in the process. That shit harshes my mellow, man!
The search for peace of mind comes from a less simple time in my life, made less simple by yours truly. It was a low down dirty existence of a past, inside of which the only thing that mattered when push began shoving me off the edge was that indefinable construct that my brain could nestle inside of. There had to be something that mattered. I mean . . really mattered.
The mellow is a conduit for me, the intersection of creativity and peace of mind, the latter of which is a priceless commodity. It’s just one of those things that I consider sacred, in a world where sacred things would get turned down if they applied for a loan.
Personally, I think the plushest flowers grow best when the garden is arcane.